My Brother's Keeper
by KeshaRocks
Summary: Sora and Roxas are twins born in royalty. Xemnas, the king's long time rival, kidnaps Roxas and raises him as his own. Years later, the two twins barely recognize each other. Sora, a proud and generous prince, and Roxas a stone-cold assassin determined to kill the king. Can the secret be revealed before it's too late?
1. Prologue

This is the story of two brothers.

Twins.

Sora and Roxas. Born in royalty, beloved by all the citizens of the kingdom, and meant the world to their loving parents.

Both the boys both had spiky hair, and beautiful blue eyes. One that spiked out in multiple directions, and the other in a simple swoop. And something extra special that baffled the parents. Both of the twins had a royal birthmark in the shape of a crown on their left shoulder.

On the day they introduced them to the citizens, the King and Queen unleashed thousands of fireworks into the sky, symbolizing their eternal love and rein of their kingdom. Roxas loved them, laughing and giggling at the colors, but the explosions bothered Sora, he would hide, cry at the sound of the boom. The villagers were joyance at the sight of the heirs to the throne.

But little did they know that deep in the recesses of the kingdom, an evil was plotting to overrule their royal highness.

A cruel assassin organization, led by the King's longtime rival, Xemnas, had believed he found his way to bring down the King and his Queen.

He would kidnap the twins, raise them as his own.

Their Majesties, their guards, none would dare lay a finger on their beloved princes.

The night after the celebration, Xemnas and his guards invaded the castle under the cover of night.

Sora and Roxas were kept in a separate nursery, kept in two separate cradles. Clear shafts of icy moonlight streamed through the curtains, casting the surroundings into different shades of frost blue.

Outside on the balcony, a dark hand reached out, picked the lock with ease, and delicately pushed open the window. Tiptoeing onto the carpeted floor, Xemnas stepped up to the cradles. His shadow stretched over the two boys, two of his guards standing watch.

A fierce grin crawled across his lips. He reached out and stroked Roxas' blonde hair. As his gaze shifted to Sora, as he reached out a hand, Sora's eyes blinked open, as if he could sense his hand.

Immediately, Xemnas withdrew his hand, but Sora was already screaming in fear.

A guard, probably on patrol in the hall, burst through the door.

"Intruder!" he yelled.

One of Xemnas' men shot the man in the heart with a crossbow.

Sora screamed louder, and now Roxas joined him.

The King and Queen awoke to the screaming. They burst from their bedroom and they barreled down the hallway to the nursery. The King, armed with his sword and guards came into the room to find Roxas' cradle toppled over. Sora's was pushed to the side. The Queen quickly rushed toward Sora, cradling the boy in her arms, easing his cries.

Xemnas was crouched on the balcony, Roxas in his other arm.

And with one swoop of his black cloak, Xemnas was gone.

The King launched an entourage, of guards, willing villagers and the best dogs to track down Xemnas. They searched and searched, every nook and cranny, no stone left unturned. But alas they could not find the prince.

For deep within the forest, in a hidden castle, Xemnas raised Roxas as his own.

At last, he'll have his revenge. He now had a secret weapon, to which he was determined to keep hidden.

The King and Queen, as well as the villagers were in mourning. Their beloved Prince Sora, would now until further evidence of Roxas' survival, be an only child.

Each day that passes, both twins grow older and fighting stronger. Both leading different lives.

Sora grew into a healthy son and proud symbol of the kingdom. His hope of finding his brother growing stronger with every year. While Roxas' heart was filled with anger and hatred; learning the ways of an assassin and cursing his own father's name in spite.

Unaware of the secret that has kept him loyal to Xemnas for years.

But not everything was different.

Roxas rolls to face the window of his room, and when the first rocket launches, he catapults out of his bed and throws open his window.

Each year on their birthdays, the King and Queen launched thousands of fireworks into the sky.

And while Sora still didn't like the sounds, he put up with it.

In hope that one day, his lost brother, the kingdom's lost prince would return.


	2. Chapter 1

"Stop him!" shouted the guard as a cloaked figure burst through the door from the bedroom.

The cloaked figure had a mask covering the lower half of his face, his hood pulled up over his head. His footsteps went mute as they sank into plush gold and black carpeting. The walls were lined with shelves decorated with colorful glass knickknacks and boats. Tall floor candelabrums with fancy flat bowls accented the space. Scanning the walls, he could find no windows.

Old-fashioned threadbare tapestries depicting medieval knights, nobles, and ladies hung in their place over the decorative walls.

A plush Persian carpet runner ran the length of the floor beneath his feet, while tall curio cabinets full of strange artifacts like gold scarabs, foreign ankhs, and bleached animal skulls lined the walls on either side of him. Long hallway tables holding stacks of ancient books sat outside several set of closed double doors along with heavy high-backed chairs, the arms of which bore the carved images of crouching sphinxes.

Golden candelabra shaped like women in flowing gowns adorned the walls, the low and steady light they offered between their outstretched hands providing minimal relief from the darkness that saturated everything.

He rushed, keeping his aim on one of the many gigantic ebony pairs of double doors.

Tucked under one arm, he held the Queen's crown jewels. Gorgeous necklaces encrusted with gems of coordinated colors, solid caret diamond earrings. An elaborate hair comb, encrusted with amethyst gemstones, winked at him in the candlelight.

Taking a sharp turn around the next corner, he ducked into the next room. Once he heard the feet pass him by, he takes in his surroundings. He had entered a den for studying and quiet time. A thin glass window showed the view of the courtyard, a fire crackling in the hearth on the far wall.

Holding up the comb for inspection, it sparkled in his grasp, as if each jewel held its own glowing ember within.

The comb was sheathed in his cloak as footsteps of an approaching guard draw near. Pulling his bow off his back, he loads an arrow. Flattening his back against the brick wall, he hears him come closer.

The guard steps through the doorway. He pulls off his helmet and shakes out his hair. Taking a step forward, he pulls back the string. The arrow easily penetrates his skull as he's made a victim of a killer headshot. Prying the arrow free and looting his body for salvage, he flattens against the wall near the doorway once again, but hears no more footsteps.

Slinging the bow over his shoulder, he takes a deep breath and sprints out the door. In seconds though, he hears the thumping of footsteps hurdling towards him and braces himself.

"There! Stop him!" someone yells.

Pausing his fleeing, the thief suddenly leaps forward, slamming his knife into the side an oncoming guard's head, burying it to the hilt. The man makes a wet gurgling noise in the back of his throat. Yanking the blade free, it makes a damp sucking sound, flinging stray droplets of blood into the air. His eyes lock to the thief, and once the knowledge within them has hardened into the far-seeing gaze of the dead, the thief immediately pulls forward an arrow.

His feet pounded down the stone steps that led to the throne room of the castle. From there, it was a straight shot out to the courtyard. He nears the double thick door, when he sees a wall of guards.

Pulling free a sword he stole from the guard he shot, he readies the blade. As he nears the headmaster, his blade wielding high, the cloaked figure let the blade clang against his own, swinging it down, and stepping up over the man's head. He leaps high, over the men - lined up in a four-by-three square. Rolling forward, he continues forward, the village in his sights.

"Halt!" a guard posted on a horse yells, his palm out.

The cloak figure pulls another arrow and shoots the man down. Grabbing the reins of the horse, he pulls himself up and snaps the reins.

He thunders through the village, hooves pounding the dirt grit road. Villagers cry out as they nearly miss the beats powerful feet. The guards continue to shout as he makes a beeline for the treeline to the forest.

"Close the gates! Close the gates!" someone distant shouted from behind.

Through the smattering of clouds, three early night stars shone in the deepening blue, but it wasn't completely dark yet. Under the cover of night, he's nothing more than a shadow.

Up ahead, the gates were slowly winding shut. Beyond them, the bridge of the kingdom lies in wait. The darkening stone stretch of trail black, like a ribbon of ink. The spikes soon to be interlocked, trapping him inside.

The horse huffs, its ears twitch left and right. Yanking in the reins, they come to a stop.

From all sides, guards came out of the shadows like demons, wielding their swords. The gate continuing to shut.

Leaping off the horse, he dives head first into the pit of vipers. Pulling forth the sword, it clangs against the one of a guard. Slashing the man in the side, he takes the blade and swipes it at the ankles of another. Flipping the weapon, grabbing the blade, he swings and the hilt slams into the head of another guard.

Rushing forward, he ducks down the whistling of a blade in his ears. Whirling he swipes at the sword of another, then slicing the throat with his knife. As another guard rushes to tackle him, he sidesteps and whacks away the tip of another sword and slashes at the wielder's side.

As the men collapse around him, he turns and faces the king and his men. The hood conceals his face, casting a shadow over his eyes, but still the king could feel the piercing gaze of loath.

"Men! On him!" he screams.

But as if on cue, a shower of arrows washes over the gate wall. It showers down spearing any one target theta isn't him.

Turning, the figure barrels toward the gates, then men still closing, but had stalled at the sight of him taking down four men single-handedly. An old traveler, accompanied by a fairly worked mule, drawing a wheelbarrow comes up the bridge. Catching sight of the figure, he drops to his knees, but the cloaked caper merely runs up the ramp of the wheelbarrow, raising an arrow.

Letting it fly, it hits the mechanism controlling the gates. The men startle back and they swing open wide welcoming him to the woods.

"Stop him! Now!" the king orders.

Looking back, he loads another arrow, and in the hundred yards of distance between them, the arrow sinks into the joint connecting the arm and shoulder of the king. He falls off his horse clutching his chest.

"Your majesty!"

Rushing through the gates, putting his fingers between his teeth, a high-pitched whistle rings out. The horse comes running his way, thought he metal trap and not stopping, he leaps atop and rides into the woods.

Slowly, the chaos and sounds of the Radiant Garden Kingdom diminished behind him.

Rows of trees and thick underbrush emerged on either side of him. The farther into the woods he ran, the denser the surrounding forest grew. Overhead, the interlocking patchwork of hanging boughs worked to transform his pathway into a darkening tunnel. Through the lacework of limbs, thick clouds inched by. Darkness crept in around him, spreading its fingers through the trees, working to smear them into a single black blur.

A black shadow moved in one of the trees. Jerking his head, he soon saw a small pinprick of light. The sound of splintery wheels greeted him. He slowed the horse to a trot, then a walk as then hay barrow wagon came into view.

"Who's this?" The one-eyed driver said through a chuckle.

Crooking one corner of his mouth into a half smile, the figure finally removes his hood, revealing his golden blonde hair, and pulling down his mask to breathe. His eyes sparkled in the faint moonlight.

"Just a new friend I made." He replies.

"Well get in boy. We need to get back by sunrise." He says, his dark hair with several grey streaks along with the length of his hair tied into a long ponytail.

As he leaps in, ruffling his spiky hair, the glint of Xigbar's gold eye catches in the moonlight. With his hood down, his pointed, elf-like ears are exposed along with his unusual upturned eyebrows. He also has two visible injuries on his face; the first being a damaged right eye covered by an eyepatch, while the other is a large jagged scar extending from his left cheek and dies in the unremitting darkness of his left eye.

His usual partner in crime, Zexion stepped out with a high-five and mounted the horse in his place. Zexion has bright aqua colored eyes, though only his left one is clearly visible, the right one being covered by his long, layered bangs. His steel-blue hair sports messy bangs that completely cover the right side of his face, reaching about an inch or two past his chin.

On his left side, his bangs, though still rather long, are shorter than the right side, partially covering his ear. A few strands of hair fall over the exposed section of his face. The back of Zexion's hair is quite a bit shorter than the front.

Sitting in the far corner of the wheelbarrow, near the driver's seat shuffling through a deck of cards is another teammate, Luxord. His electric-blue eyes locked on the cards as if locked in a mental game. His clean-cut platinum-blond hair made him appear rugged to the point where you wouldn't want to pick a fight with him, if you were smart. He also possesses a notably British accent in the English translation, furthering his air of sophistication.

"A total of five hours." He speaks. "I believe that's your personal best."

He looks up from his cards, resting one arm on the edge of the wheelbarrow, sparing him a smile. The corner of Roxas' mouth twitched as he sank down into the hay, pulling out his knife and wiping the blood on the crusty grass.

"So, Jesse," Xigbar called from the driver's seat. "Did you get the stuff?"

Instead of answering, Jesse takes then satchel concealed with in his cloak, and dumps the contents into the hay.

"Yep he got it." Zexion answers.

As Roxas sharpens his knife, Luxord stares at him, twirling a card between his fingers. Looking at the how the boy's grown, a small patch of sympathy buds at his core. Since the day Xemnas brought him home, they boy's life has been an entire lie. Even his name. With the risk of people seeing him, he always had to wear a hood or something to cover his blonde hair that made him so easily recognizable. And he's lived his life by a whole different name.

Sometimes Luxord wonders what he'd be like if he wasn't, here. Would he smile more? Would his eyes look warmer instead of stark and cold? Would that iron-gate guard of his be demolished?

"So," Luxord speaks. "I believe someone's birthday is coming up soon. Anything you have in mind?"

"Like anyone cares." Roxas snaps.

As they reach a fork in the road, steering left, Luxord can see the glint of blue in Roxas' eyes. Looking over on the horizon, the sky was surrendering to the early morning blue bleeding across the sky. As they pass a road sign, the carved emblem of the Twilight Kingdom peeks through Roxas' peripheral vision.

He draws his head up and gazes at the emblem.

It was in the shape of a heart with a small crown etched at the intersection. The delicate lines of the heart gave it a fluid motion, portraying a welcoming softness and warmth that Roxas rarely ever felt except when he was here. Course it was the place where he grew up so that probably explains for that.

They soon see the Wall that borders the perimeter if the forty-three acre estate. It's a massive expanse of weather-stained gray stone bolstered by ribbons of steel. Darkened windows are cut into the bulky exterior like idles, unblinking eyes, and the roof holds several turrets manned with guards whose sole job is to cut down any escapers before they've gone twenty paces. Looking past the fifty-yard perimeter of scorched ground that he keeps around the wall, the sun is nothing but a fiery mirage below the tree line. The rusty iron gate shuts every night at ten o'clock sharp with a heavy and authoritative metallic clang.

As they pulled up, Roxas pulled his hood over his head and leaped off the wagon.

"I'll be back by noon." He says.

"Want your horse?" Zexion asks.

"Take it." Roxas waves off as he trots off to the woods.

Luxord watches as his cloak sways in the breeze, and with a smooth walk to the trees, he disappears, leaving nothing in his wake.

Tossing in his bed, Sora rolls to face his window. His eyes flutter open. Dawn is a whisper in the morning air. Springing up in his bed, Sora flings off the covers and ruffles his fingers through his spiky brown hair. Changing into his clothes, a navy-blue tunic with short-sleeves, black pants and a pair of hunting boots, he grabs his cloak. Wrapping it around his neck, he fastens the buttons and heads down the stairs.

As he enters the corridor, he sees the stone staircase leading down towards the courtyard of the castle. He slides down the railing, snatching an apple from a maid coming up the steps. The servants exchange 'Good morning, your majesty' as he heads out the door. Seeing the stable where he keeps his horse, Tula, Sora runs up a pyramid of boxes, swinging onto the horse's back from a banister. Snapping the reins, they bolt forward. Mud puddles gouge the gritty road, courtesy of a heavy rain shower.

The sun had risen, casting everything in a golden halo as Sora passed under the stone archway of the outer wall and crossed the stone bridge into the forest trail. He and Tula thundered through the trees, stirring up swirls of leaves in their wake. The summer's sun heating his skin and tingling his scalp. The wind seared through Sora's hair, and as they hopped a log Sora threw his head back.

"Woohoo!" he howled.

It was days like this that he enjoyed. It was one of few that came every once in a while. Usually, every day of his life focused on lessons on proper etiquette, manners and language. All of which he needed to know as he will be King one day.

As he slowed to the small meadow near a hillside, an unwelcome shaft of longing courses through him.

_Would Roxas have liked this_? He asks himself.

Sora usually misses his brother. Even if he was kidnapped after they were born, he felt like he already knew everything about him. And it's moments like this, Sora misses what they would've had together. He imagines their hair being similar shades of brown. Maybe they would've both loved lemon cake and hated spinach. Or maybe they would've both thought the only truly useful items are ones that are sharp because pointy things make for excellent weapons.

He'll never know, and thinking about it won't help, so he shoves the longing away. By now though, at the age of seventeen, the only thing that remained untarnished by layers of wishful thinking and fogginess was the core feeling left with him. It lay buried deep within him, like a piece of grit worried into a pearl.

In the end, it was the only thing he really needed to keep going.

Hope.

By the afternoon, they were perched on a clearing overlooking the mountain valley. He spun his knife that he kept strapped to his thigh, between his fingers. Lying on his back, a blade of grain grass between his teeth, he ticked it back and forth while Tula rolls in the grass.

Suddenly he hears the caw of a hawk. Looking up, he sees one of the few birds he and his father train soaring stories above him. It calls again, and circles back towards the mountains, where the mouth of the Destiny Falls spilled out over the valley. Springing up, he follows the bird's path. The river snaked its way to the shoreline, where far below, the waves leaped at the rocks, hungrily licking at the flat face of the cliff.

Legend says that on the days the clouds surrounded the sun, the moon's pure light – being it casted through the piercing blackness of night, purified the water. Gave it special properties. That when combined with the purest of hearts, can grant your deepest desire.

Climbing the sea stacks that poked out from the ground like jagged teeth, Sora placed his feet and hands accordingly as he was mere feet from the top. His foot slipped on one rock, causing him to skid down for a split second, Tula neighing in worry as a wave swept up on the rocks. He was soaked, but he didn't care. The water felt good against his heated skin.

The sun was a single speck of light, the entire sky casted in an icy-blue as clouds rolled in and swallowed the bright red and peach pink.

Sora pulled his way to the top of the sea stack. He looked out at the beauty of the sunset. The waves were rolling in, racing towards the stacks. Sora prepped his footing as it crashed into the rock. Arching upward and curving into a crescent for a few seconds. Within those seconds, Sora was showered with the drops of ice tears. Holding out his tongue, the drops plastered to it, but the sour salt was gone, purity in of itself.

Up until now, Sora could never climb the stacks. He was either too small, too weak, or too cowardly. But now that he was hear, being showered by the sea, he wished with every fiber of his being, to see his brother.

This wish was past his mind, beyond his heart. He wished from his soul.

And that's the space where only Roxas and God dwell.

By the end of the day, Sora's clothing was still fairly wet, and the sun was gone from the sky. He rides in through the village, and to the inner wall that separated the villagers and the castle. There he slowed to a trot and parked Tula back in her stable spot. Hopping off, he pats his stomach.

"Whew, I'm staring. What about you Tula?" she neighs and nuzzles Sora's cheek. "Alright, carrots it is."

Pushing his way thought the door of the kitchen, the chefs greet him with a 'Good day your highness.' Sora bows in politeness and sneaks a taste of walnuts while also snatching another apple. Then as he's walking through, he slyly smiles as he sees a plate of delicious pastries. He pops the apple in his mouth and sneaks over, blocking the view. Picking it up, he spins and walks out alluring suspicion.

Walking into the dining hall, the scent of cinnamon, freshly baked bread, and spiced meat seeped to his nose, causing his stomach to growl. The music from the musicians washed over him, building and falling, the melody mimicking itself, then starting over.

The thick gold-and-red chamber lay stretched before him. Thick velvet draperies spilled from tall windows, like motionless crimson waterfalls. The smell of perfume and wine mingled with the scent of the rich food. More red-and-gold-lined draperies hung suspended from the vaulted ceilings. A warm fire crackling in the hearth.

The table was overflowing with food. A crown roast, filet tied with rosemary and exotic dishes. A large bird stuffed with dressing and pears, resting on peacock feathers arranged to resemble a live bird's open tail. And sparkling candies shaped like hearts.

"Oh, welcome sweetheart." His mother said, looking up from a small scattering of papers sprawled in front of her.

"Hello son!" his father belched, half a turkey leg in his hand while other held a mug.

"Mother, father." Sora greet as he brushes kisses with his mother.

Walking up to his place, he plops his knife in its sheath into the table as he sets down the tray of sweets.

"Sora," his mother spoke, the obvious irritation in her voice. "how many times have I told you not to put your weapons on the table?"

"Aw come on, mom. It's just my knife, and it's in its sheath." Sora playfully wines.

"Off." She orders with a smirk.

"Oh leave him be darling. He's a growing boy, and learning how to fight is essential for a future king." His father chimes in.

"Now I know where you get your stubbornness from." His mother mumbles.

Sora chuckles while taking the knife and draping it over the back of the chair, taking his seat. Loading his plate with the food, he sits, taking a fork and stabbing the juicy meat of the bird. Placing it in his mouth, he breaks the delicate skin with his teeth and immediately his tongue is assaulted with a sweet and savory taste of gravy.

"Speaking of weapons, Squall tells me you've been getting better at your training." His father says after chugging down the rest of his drink.

"Oh yeah." Sora bashfully says, shrugging his shoulders.

"You are remembering his rules?" he presses.

"Yes father." Sora answers.

"Sweetie, you seem distracted, everything okay?" his mother asks after placing aside another sheet of mail.

"Um, it's just . . ." Sora pauses. "you'll never guess what I did today."

"Oh?" his father answers. Hovering his hand over his glass as a maid comes ready to fill it. She sees this and withdraws, carrying the pitcher over to Sora.

"Thank you." He says once she refills his glass. She nods and heads back to the kitchen. "Well today," getting back on the subject. "I climbed the sea stacks and wished under the Angel's Tears."

His father looks to him in pride. "The Angel's Tears, huh? You know they say only the purest of hearts could make it to the top. Worthy enough to bathe in the tears."

Sora and his father share a chuckle as Sora gloats slightly. Passing through the archway was their made Airerth, carrying a silver tray with another letter.

"Did you wish for anything darling?" His mother asks, taking the letter with a 'Thank-you'.

"Uh yeah, but you guys don't want to hear it." Sora quickly dismisses. He picks up his loaf of bread and slices in half. Smearing some butter on top, he takes a bite to avoid answering.

"Sure we do, what is it?" His father urged.

"Is it a bride?" his mother teases.

Sora shoots her a look of amused annoyance as he swallows the bread. "It's nothing, really. Besides if I tell you it won't come true."

And utterly fill the room with a palpable and awkward silence.

"Please dear, come now." His mother said in her sudden serious tone. "What is it?"

Sora places down his fork and sighs. He looks to his father who only has the same curiosity and urgency as his mother.

"I wished to see my brother."

As expected, his parents fell silent and slouched back into their seats. Sora bit his lip, feeling stupider for saying it out loud.

"We all wish for that, honey." His mother spoke. "And if we could, you know we'd bring him home in a heartbeat."

Sora simply nods as his mother opens the letter and his father eats with more proper etiquette.

"OH dear." His mother suddenly speaks.

"What is it dear?" His father asks.

"It's a letter from Sir Ansem." She says. Sora and his father's head perk up in unison.

"What'd he say?" Sora asks.

His mother's eyes flick to him then she lowers the letter, her posture changing instantly.

"Sora, you are excused." She says.

Sora looks to his dad, and he motions his head for him to leave. Sora pushes out his seat, wiping his mouth and getting up. Walking through the archway, he closes the door behind him. But instead of walking on, he stays crouched, listening in. He crept up to stand just outside the doorway. Pressing his back to the wall, he turned his head to listen. Peeking through the crevice of the doors.

"It says that he's been robbed again. This time he was able to break into the castle and steal the queen's royal jewels." His mother speaks, her tone slightly worried and frantic.

"Do they have any idea who it is" his father asks.

"No, he wears a cloak and a mask to cover his face. They don't know who it is. But they've managed to figure out that he takes the same route to our kingdom after every robbery." His mother reads.

A numbing dread prickled in Sora's gut.

"He sent us a warning to be on the lookout. And to inform them if we'll need any assistance if we're to encounter the man. He writes that he took out several guards, mercilessly. And just before he vanished, he shot at the Ansem."

"He dare strike down a king?"

"And he disappeared with all the jewels." His mother concludes.

"I'll send a response letter immediately." His father said.

"Honey, I don't feel comfortable letting Sora out of the castle with that thief on the loose." His mother suddenly says.

At these words, Sora paled. He drew a quick breath and held it.

"Sara, he'll be fine. He can fight. He knows how to take care of himself." His father defends.

"He's still my boy though, and he'll be an easy target if he were to be recognized in the marketplace." His mother argues.

"It's not like _everyone's_ in accomplice with the robber." His father said.

"But if they recognize him and the thief's near, he'll target him." His mother counters.

Unable to take the nervousness pooling in his stomach, Sora stepped back from the door. He went up the stone steps with hurried feet. Disappearing into his room, he took a deep breath as he tried to process the new information of a skilled thief roaming the streets of his kingdom, and terrorizing another. Single-handedly able to take down guards skilled in the art of sword-fighting and walk away unharmed, and anonymous.

_Who is this guy_? He thought, slowly approaching his bed.

Outside the rectangular, three-paneled window crosshatched by white Xs, a tangled outline of naked black tree limbs scratched at a churning backdrop of ominous gray-purple clouds.

Deep in the forest, in an abandoned house of a wealthy merchant, another dinner was being prepped. The house itself was incredible, practically a castle in its own. It had three levels, the topmost of which might be an attic. The roof met in the peak there, with a little subroof sticking out from underneath the first framing a rectangular, three-paneled window. A small concrete porch led up to a front door, shaded by a simple verandah, which was itself supported by a row of painted white pillars. The front door, done in an opaque gold stained-glass design, shimmered a satiny dim yellow in the late afternoon sunlight.

A heavy wind rushed by, causing the leafy heads of enormous, ancient looking trees to swish back and forth. The sun poked through the clouds, lighting the very center of the court where a huge fountain stood. No water poured from the enormous green basin, and the elevated base was surrounded by graceful swans and solemn-faced shrubs.

At the very top of the fountain, a statue of a voluptuous nude woman looked down on them as they passed. She held a swath of fabric that clung to the lower half of her body and appeared to billow out behind her in a suspended arc. Curly-haired cherubs frolicked beneath the basin in a captured moment of abandon. Though the figures might have seemed playful in the daylight, something about the mix of shadows and stark light cast on their small faces through the trees made them appear more mischievous than free-spirited, more impish than gleeful.

The large swans that reveled with them, rearing back with wings outspread, looked somehow frantic.

Blocked by the wide bowl of the basin, the light could not reach the sultry figure of the nude woman who stood at the very top of the fountain, her veil billowing out behind her. She remained swathed in shadow, a silhouette that belonged to the night.

Carrying the haul from today's hunt, Roxas lugged the burlap sacks, one on his shoulder. Strapped to his belt were three rabbits snagged in his snare traps, and in the sack he carried over his shoulder was a gathering of berries and greens. In the other was a turkey he shot by the river. He was hoping to trade it in the market tomorrow.

Inside, as Roxas entered, his footsteps echoed against the polished wood floor. He craned his head at the incredible height of the ceiling. Xemnas liked old-fashioned boats. Roxas' eyes finding first the model of what he thought might be a schooner, perched on a long hallway table, and then a large painting depicting a ship being tossed around on a stormy sea.

His footsteps went mute as they sank into plush gold and black carpeting, which trailed all the way up a grand staircase tucked against the wall to his left. To his right was an open living room area with tall, sliding wooden doors. Inside, a fireplace played the role of centerpiece. The walls were lined with shelves decorated with colorful glass knickknacks and more boats. Tall floor candelabrums with fancy flat bowls accented the space. The lamp especially gave the room a very "look but don't touch" feel.

His name was called out from down the hall. "Jesse?"

"Coming!" he called back through a sigh.

Scooping up this things, he made his way down the hall to the kitchen. Standing at the hearth chopping up green onions, is Xaldin.

Xaldin is a broad-shouldered man whose attire consists of a long-sleeved tunic covered by an apron with its age told from the many stains and smears of powder on it. Xaldin's black hair is styled into distinctive dreadlocks. One of these dreads is used to tie most of the others into a sort of ponytail, while four thinner dreads dangle in front of Xaldin's face (two on each side). He also has bushy eyebrows and very thick sideburns, the latter of which hook around his cheeks, parallel to his violet eyes.

He looks to the younger boy with a slight smile on his face. Let be known Xaldin rarely ever smiles at Roxas unless the boy proves his usefulness. But Roxas couldn't care less, he's not there to impress him.

"Nice haul today boy." He speaks as he wipes his hands on a rag on his shoulder.

"Is that a compliment?" Roxas teases.

"It's a mere observation." Xaldin replies. "Not bad."

He's usually sarcastic and inpatient with Roxas, but tends to show the boy praise when deserved. Roxas gives a ghost of a smile as he set the bag of greens and berries on the countertop, and the rabbits on Xaldin's cutting board.

"And the bird?" Xaldin gestures.

Roxas slightly turns away, his hand placing on the bird. "I'm going to trade it at the market tomorrow."

Xaldin shrugs and starts to skin the rabbits. Roxas pushes through the swing door to the kitchen into the living room. He walked down the hallway, stopping when he came to the second, larger room to his right. This one was another no-touchy, done in antique gold and soft pinks with hardwood inlay floor, heavy draperies, and fancy old chairs. In one corner, like a squat gentlemen in a tuxedo, stood a polished black piano.

He strode toward the piano, carefully stepping around a low table with spindly legs. He moved to stand behind the instrument, where he let his fingers trial the keys.

Roxas knew how to play, in fact Demyx was the one who taught him the basic keys and scales. When he was younger Roxas would sneak downstairs and quietly play the keys. He learned the notes of all the songs known throughout the kingdom. Sometimes he'd write his own songs, of which he'd rarely play. As the years progressed, Roxas' hobby soon got shoved into the back of the closet as he was given more duties, and he didn't like to perform in front of the other members.

He climbed up the stairs, the fingers of his hand sliding along the mahogany banister. After another short, silent spurt of stairs, he reached the second floor landing, which gave way to a cloister of rooms. But this would not be his stop. He traipsed higher yet. Here the carpet ended, and they tromped on naked wood, the sound echoing through the house. He reached yet another tiny landing, a window stamped into the wall to his left. Roxas quirked an eyebrow at the view through this tiny portal one that showed him little more than the detail of a skeletal tree.

He rounded one final corner. With an internal groan, he saw that here, the next staircase, set slightly apart, seemed to slant more steeply and grow even more narrow, the individual steps themselves somehow thicker and taller. This staircase reached up toward a single narrow door. The burn in his thighs intensified as they climbed again.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Roxas stepped over the threshold into his bedroom. Shadows gathered in pockets despite the room's two windows, while above him, the ceiling pitched and slanted upward like the roof of a tent. A time-eaten mauve color wrapped the walls. Large purple curtains snapped and stirred in the breeze. Outside the window, a tangled outline of naked black tree limbs scratched at a churning backdrop of ominous gray-purple clouds.

He stood beneath a chandelier with candles suspended over a narrow metal-framed bed, which had been shoved lengthwise against one wall. Their flame shape sputtered, trying to stay lit. A chain suspended the fixture from a hook in the ceiling. There was a tiny crawlspace that contained small glass vials, each a different color and shape. They stood gathered together like potion bottles in a sorcerer's forgotten cabinet. Instead of magical elixirs, though, each little vial held an assortment of dried flowers.

Centered in a pool of yellow light, he could see a plush purple chair. Bookshelves stuffed with dust-caked tomes lined the walls, and on a nearby table sat an old-fashioned oil lamp. Dimly lit, it was a partial source of the overlay of yellow light. The other contributor was the bed of fading embers glowing low within the enormous fireplace in front of the purple chair.

And the edge of one black boot.

He looked at the hand that rested on the velvet-covered armrest. A familiar hand gripped it with curled fingers.

Sitting there, slouched and relaxed, Axel's head cocked up and turned to look over his shoulder. The muscles in Roxas' face relax as he sets the turkey aside. The sight of him waiting there brings a smile to Roxas' face. An actual smile, teeth and all.

Axel always teases him about how he never sees Roxas smile unless they're together. Claiming his 'good-looks' are irresistible to anyone. In turn Roxas would always disregard with a sly remark and a punch to his arm.

Axel has fair skin with rosy hues, a widow's peak, rather small eyebrows and thick, shoulder-length, bright red hair styled into slicked-back spikes. His eyes are a bright emerald color and he has a purple reverse-teardrop shaped marking under each eye.

"Hey Jesse." He says.

"Hey." Roxas replies as he shrugs off his jacket. Axel takes a quick peek of the bird.

"I take it you're not sharing?"

"I'm going to trade it at the market tomorrow." Roxas answers as he plops on the floor. "Hopefully I can trade it for something useful."

"What'cha looking to buy?" Axel asks. Roxas taking notice of him digging around through his satchel.

"I don't know. Maybe a new knife. Some new laces for my boots." Roxas answers.

Axel smiles. "Hey speaking of shopping, listen, I got you something today."

Roxas' head pops up as Axel pulls out a paper-wrapped package. The wafting sweet scent immediately made Roxas' mouth flood with saliva. He shifts to his knees as Axel pulls the string, revealing a perfectly preserved piece of lemon cake.

Oh my god!" Roxas gasps. "Is this real?"

"Yeah."

Axel quickly rewraps it, stuffing it back into his bag. "Saving it for later. After dinner just so Xemnas doesn't know. I know you're not too willing to share."

As if on cue, Luxord's voice called out to all members that dinner was ready. Walking into the dining hall, the room was lit by hundreds of tiny black votive candles, and stands of black glass beads hung from the chandelier. Everyone took their seats at the enormous rectangular claw-foot table. It was dark wood, almost black, and there were intricate designs, like vines, carved into the legs. Huge black candles flickered in the center of the table.

Axel sat next to Roxas. Xaldin, Luxord, and Xigbar at the father end. More of the members came to join. Marluxia, a tall elegant man with feminine features. His hair was shoulder length and rose pink with ruffles. He had blue eyes and his lips are a pale pink.

He comes in with Larxene on his arm. She had bright, blonde hair is slicked back and about jaw-length, with two long strands styled into distinctive antennae-like strands.

Larxene's eyes are cyan and she is very slim with an hourglass figure when compared to other members due to her gender. As he passes by Axel, he purposefully traces a feather-like touch along Axel's shoulders. Axel cringes and jerks back as if it scalded him. Sitting across for him was the only other person Roxas felt comfortable around.

Demyx.

He has cyan eyes and dirty blonde hair, the latter of which is quite distinctive. It has an odd mullet-like style, and he has several individual bangs that fall over his face. He is rather useful in appearance.

"Jesse if you care about me, you'll have gotten some squirrel." Demyx jokes, placing his hands in prayer form.

"Sorry man, the early bird gets the room." Roxas answers.

Vexen, the mad hatter of the group comes in, his bright green eyes having a calculating expression in deep thought. His platinum blond hair worn long with two slightly shorter (but still long) bangs that frame his face.

Zexion soon enters with his most trusted accomplice, Lexaeus.

Lexaeus is easily the largest member of the organization. He has very angular and strong features, with a square chin, straight nose, and sharp cheekbones. He has blue eyes and small eyebrows. His hair is ginger and slicked back into rather odd, messy spikes.

As soon as Saix enters the room, everyone has taken their seats, mingling with one another on their day.

He's the second-in-command with Xemnas despite his ranking within the group.

Saïx has long, frayed blue hair framing his face, though slicked back in wild spikes at the top. Behind, it reaches down to his mid-back and is cut slightly neater. A distinctive trait of Saïx's is the X-shaped scar between his yellow eyes that extends to about halfway up his forehead in one direction and to just under his eyes in the other. He wears a single studded earring on each pointed ear.

"Quite the dinner you've made Xaldin." He comments.

"Thank you," he formally replies. "Jesse had a good haul today."

Roxas' eyes flick to Saix for a moment as he chews on the greens he picked earlier.

"Is that so?" Saix's cool voice speaks. "Well done, Roxas."

Roxas shrugs. "It was a lucky day."

Saix simply nods as they members chow down. Roxas belittles the meal as compared to the feast the royal family must eat every night. The exotic foods they must see, and how they must so easily dispose of it. Roxas' lip curls into a small snarl at the idea of throwing away the food not touched. Atrocious.

After the meal, the members disperse once again into their own little worlds. Roxas was about to head up the journey stairs again when Axel caught his hand.

"Hey, Jesse." He says, leading Roxas down the steps.

He steps in close and Roxas felt his hand, which held the warmth of the roasted rabbits, slip against his. Roxas' breath caught in his throat, and his eyes widened. He pressed something into his stomach. His hands curled to secure it and, for the briefest moment, held Axel's. In the next, he moved on, and Roxas felt himself turning to stare after him, rubbing his thumb over the rough slip of crunched paper.

It wasn't until he made it to his room that he opened the lemon cake once again. Propped on top of t, folded in half was a note.

Picking it between his fingers Roxas read;

_Consider this an early birthday present._

_-A_

With a heavy sigh, Roxas folded the note and entombed the sweet delicacy once more.


	3. Chapter 2

Walking the streets of the marketplace, Sora had to practically beg to his mother to let him go. Thankfully with the persuasion of his father, they had come to a compromise that Squall would escort him through the streets.

It always takes a moment for Sora to register that they're talking about the same person. Squall always told Sora to call him Leon. He always hated being called Squall, and decided to unofficially rename himself. Sora didn't care either way.

The sky had greeted him with a gorgeous, cloudless sky. Banners strung across the cobblestone path, wagons filled with an assortment of flowers. All of the villagers merry-making of his birthday coming up. Flicking the hood of his cloak over his head, Sora makes sure it hides every strand of spikey hair that makes him so easily recognizable. Along with dressing in 'normal' attire fit for the marketplace. A simply faded blue tunic with dark pants and boots.

The lower market is laid out like a man's back. The main road forms the spine and leads towards the castle's North Tower, while smaller roads and alleys branch off like ribs running east and west.

"So what exactly are we looking for?" Leon asks after he hands the horses off to a guard.

"I just want to look around." Sora says as they wriggle their way through the masses of people.

The first stall he reaches is a trestle table laden with a few remaining crates of juicy pears and thick-skinned melons. A woman and her husband squeeze the fruit between their fingers before loading up their sack, murmuring to each other as they weigh each choice.

Peeking through his hood, Sora watches as Leon follows him. Leon was a fairly attractive man, in his twenties with perfect peach skin. His eyes are blue and he bears his distinctive scar, which runs diagonally across the bridge of his nose. His hair a lighter shade of brown and short, and his bangs sweep to the left side of his face.

"So what's the point of coming here if we're not buying anything?" Leon asks.

"Don't tell me you're complaining." Sora pesters. "I went through your training holding my tongue until it bled. Literally."

Leon rolls his eyes. "That's different. I was training you to protect yourself if you were ever to get in trouble. This is just, shopping."

"Well look, I just wanted to have a look around the market place, okay? I'm going to be king soon-"

"The thought of which scares me." Leon interjects.

Sora gives him a look that says, 'really?' "So, I thought I'd' get to know the villagers."

"Commoners?"

"_Villagers_." Sora emphasizes. The term commoners to him felt so degrading.

Sora passes the butcher, already cleaning his knives and packing away the last of his mutton, and wrinkles her nose as the rusty scent of drying sheep's blood lies heavy on the air, mingling with the smell of mud.

Two more stalls down, they reach the candle maker's and the first of the west-running roads. Sora tucks his head down, hiding both his hair and his face beneath his hood. No one stops them as they make a left turn, though he feels the stares burning through the heavy leather of his cloak.

It was then Sora realized, no matter how much he tried to blend in, people would still recognize him. Leon was the head of security for the castle. And Sora peeks out from his hood and sees Leon wearing the emblem of the castle. Sora mentally slaps himself for not really thinking the whole, bringing Leon with through.

They reach an open wagon filled with bags of dried lentils, onions, and white beans. The merchant's daughter scoops beans into burlap sacks. While Leon examines a sack of plenty-white onions, Sora sidesteps them but pulls up short as one of the men whistles softly, a low three-note tune that sends chills up his spine. His heart pounds, a thunderous, uneven rhythm. Relief fills him when he sees Leon coming up behind him.

Tugging at the beret under his hood, Roxas made his way through the Lower Market in search for his items. After collecting another haul from the traps, he had half a dozen fish, a gallon of greens and two squirrels and a rabbit. Along with the turkey, this should be more than enough to get what he needs.

Walking the street, he passes a few stalls consisting of a candle maker, a man selling fruits and a woman selling hand-knitted clothing items.

Two more stalls down, Roxas reaches the candle maker's and the first of the west-running roads. He tucks his head down, hiding both his hair and his face beneath his hood.

A man on his left is hawking a collection of hunting knives with leather sheaths. Giving his wares a cursory glance, Roxas slides his hand in the inner pocket of his cloak, and run his fingers along the sheath he wears strapped to his waist.

His knives are nice, he thinks. Mine is better.

Leaving his knife alone, Roxas keeps walking. He moves briskly and keep to the sides, hoping to avoid attracting too much attention.

Sora and Leon approach the town's square, the road turning to cobblestone as the silhouette of the fountain comes into view. A statue of Sora's great-great-great-grandfather stood atop the fountain. He rode a horse that reared its head, eyes bugging, hooves pawing at the air. His arm held a mighty sword, armed and ready to charge into battle. Water pours from underneath the horse's hooves, streaming down and around the circular basin into the polished base where villagers sat and mingled.

As he approaches with awed steps, Sora gazed at the sculptor until his nose caught the whiff of something sweet. "What's that smell?"

He and Leon look to see a tea makers stall. The sweet smell of chamomile and lemon wafting towards him.

Leon looks to him and smiles. "I'll be right back."

As he goes towards the man, Sora continues to stare at the fountain and at his surroundings. The market seemed more, open than the castle. Even with the luxuries he has, the marketplace was where true socializing happened. Not at some formal ball where everyone judges you on your language and etiquette. If you didn't stick up our pinky, everyone else sticks up their noses in disapproval.

While gazing around the market, a voice catches his attention. "Copper tubing. Twenty-two gauge." He turns and finds another cloaked man. "A spool of wire. Sixteen gauge."

Peering around the boy's frame, he can see the outline of a burlap sack and something heavy inside.

"That all?" the proprietor asks.

"I'll also take those laces, along with the knife."

The proprietor stares him down, his hands slowly working to tap on a large wooden box. "Don't think I righty heard you."

Sora unknowingly steps closer. Curious. The man had a balding head with a jagged line of an angry scar etched like a curved lightning bolt along one side. He wore no shirt or jacket, which was what revealed the most unusual thing about him.

Scrolling designs covered much of his exposed skin. His chest, sculpted and smooth like a polished statue, depicted minutely detailed tattoos of sailing ships, tossing waves, and foam. A long-haired mermaid graced his existing shoulder, her scaly tail sweeping the length of his arm. A swirling whirlpool, a rolling cascade of waves and foam, the curling tentacles of a giant octopus. Though the pictures themselves might have been beautiful, Sora was too distracted by the fact that they had been chiseled into his skin like carvings. That thought, combined with his demonic grin, the garish white of him, made them somehow vulgar.

Sora couldn't help but applaud the boy for dealing with the man, alone.

The boy keeps his voice low and repeats his request as he leans on the bar-top counter. The wood, a dull dirt brown, is slashed and scared from possible weapons demonstration, hopefully.

The man slaps the laces and a heavy wooden mug filled with ale in front of the boy, though he hasn't ordered a drink. "Ain't got a knife."

Sure he does, Roxas thought. "What do you want for it?" Roxas bids.

He's already traded the rabbit and a squirrel for the wire and copper tubing. He still had the greens and fish and the turkey, but he needed that for another proprietor.

The man shrugs his massive shoulders and picks up a grimy rag to smear across the greasy countertop as if cleaning is suddenly a priority.

"That turkey should be able to pay for it." The man gestures to the bird strapped to his waist.

Roxas places his hand on it to intend it's not going anywhere. "I already gave you half the greens. I'm willing to give you maybe two to three fish."

"The bird for the knife." The man barks.

"How about you give me the knife and I'll let you walk away with what you have. Limbs included." Roxas barks back slapping his palms on the table.

The man's face suddenly contorts into a predatory glare and as he rises, Sora's eyes widen as the man easily out-sized the boy. Roxas slides his hand beneath his cloak. Sora has a terrible suspicion there's a weapon hidden in there.

He's going to get himself killed over a stupid weapon he already has?! Sora needs to find a way to defuse this, but he doesn't know how. Sora's stomach clenches as he frantically run scenarios and try to see a way out of this. There isn't one, unless the man gets his wager.

With nothing but quick thinking Sora rushes over to the boy, clamping a hand on his shoulder.

"Oh hey bud! There you are! What the heck, I've been looking all over for you!" Sora turns the boys away.

"What are you doing?" the boy whispers through grit teeth.

"Just play along." Sora whispers back.

"Excuse me, boy." The man calls, and Sora turns. "Do you know this guy?"

Sora strode up to the table, keeping his posture. He leans on the table to act casual. "Unfortunately yes. He is my, cousin." Sora looks back to Roxas for emphasis. "He can be grouchy sometimes. So, what's the total price?"

The man's posture seemed to relax, and yet he looked confused. "Here, we trade for goods."

"Well, what would be the total, in change?" Sora asks.

Roxas looks to him with an irritated shocked look, as if Sora had just made the biggest mistake of his life. Only those who were wealthy could pay in change. And if he just offered to pay for _everything_, he might as well cover himself in bloody meat and jump into shark infested waters.

"Well, the total would be five thousand money." He says.

Roxas walks forward, knowing the man was lying. He reaches for his knife, ready to strike when the boy helping him drops a pouch onto the counter without argument.

"Here you go." He says in a normal, even pleased voice. He gathers everything, practically shoving half of it in Roxas' arms. "And keep the change. Have a nice day!"

Sora had on his best and friendliest smile, gripping Roxas' shoulders as he carried the haul, he shoves Roxas away from the stall. Once they were out of hearing range, Roxas stops.

"What the hell was that? Who do you think you are budding into my negotiations?" he seethes. Without waiting for an answer he turns and walks on.

"Hey, you're welcome by the way!" Sora barks back. "I could've let him pound you! I didn't have to pay for you!"

Roxas stops. "Yeah exactly, you didn't." he counters, snatching the rest of the purchased items and unceremoniously shoving them into his burlap bag. "so why did you?"

"Well, one it was merely a whole week's allowance," Ignoring Roxas stare of unconvinced and disgust, he went on, "and because my mother always taught me it's good to help people in need." Sora answers with just the right amount of snob in his tone.

"Who said I needed your help?"

"Uh, you did apparently, by being stupid and challenging a man who is twenty times your size!"

"Oh please, I've beaten bigger bastards than him." Roxas dismisses. Sora's face becomes shocked. "And will you stop following me?!"

They had wandered through the streets, and while Roxas had intended to lose Sora the moment he snatched all his things, somehow Sora kept up well.

"What? I've pissed you off so much you don't want to be seen with me?"

Roxas stops and swirls around, shooting Sora a look of absolute loathing. "No because obviously _you_ are in the wrong side of town." Roxas sneers, pointing an accusing finger at Sora's chest.

"What?"

"A guy like you walking around with that much money in his pocket? You're just begging to be robbed. You're a danger to yourself, and more importantly, me."

Roxas turns without waiting for Sora to reply. Sora still follows.

"Well excuse me, I was just trying to help!" Sora says, then irritated, he speeds up and cuts right in front of Roxas, stopping him dead. "But, the fact of the matter is, is that now that I've paid for you, _you_ now owe me."

"What? No way!" Roxas sneers as he steps around him.

"Oh not so fast!" Sora says, grabbing Roxas' arm.

"Geez, you don't let up." Roxas groans, pulling his arm roughly away.

"Look," Sora grabs Roxas' shoulder and turns him around, they cease their walking once more. "you owe me for paying for your, 'stuff'."

"I don't have any money obviously."

"I don't want money." Sora suddenly says, and within the twenty seconds they've met, Roxas looked surprised. "I want knowledge."

"What?"

"Look, where I come from, fighting is, proper. Simple jabs and blocks, it feels more like learning a dance. I want to know how to _really_ fight."

Roxas ponders on this thought. He shrugs his burlap sack across his torso. Who is this guy? He buys him all this stuff and suddenly wants to learn how to fight?

"You said you've taken down guys twice, twenty times your size. I want to learn how to do that. I'm willing." Sora adds on.

"It won't be easy. It takes time." Roxas informs.

"The kingdom wasn't built in a day." Sora retorts.

Sighing, Roxas looks to Sora. It surprised him how similar their eyes matched.

"You're a freak, you know that?" Roxas snaps.

Sora gives him a dirty look.

"Alright." Roxas answers. "Deal. If it'll get you off my back."

Shaking hands the boys exchange a smile. Suddenly Sora's head perks up. "What's that smell?" he inhales deeply.

Roxas sniffs the air. "It smells like-"

"_Chocolate_." They say in unison.

"Come on," Roxas says. "I know where it is."

Roxas' made the journey to the baker, Oliver's tent together more times than he can count, and there are never any guards on the western side of Lower Market this late in the day. Their eyes scrape over the canvas tents anchored to the ground with iron pegs. Sliding past a wagon, crowds begin to sluggishly move along the streets, conversations muted. Two left turns later, they're at the western edge of the market. They sidestep a woman wrestling a plucked turkey into the woven basket strapped to her back, and approach Oliver's stall.

The yeasty aroma of braided raisin loaves pierced by the sharp sweetness of orange buns wraps around the boys, and their stomachs growl like ravenous dogs. Oliver stands alone amid wooden tables draped in crumb-coated white cotton and covered with trays holding the last of his baked goods.

"Oliver!" Roxas calls.

Oliver looks up, smiles, and plucks a sticky bun from the stash he always keeps for the children who visit. He knows they're one of Roxas' favorite. "Almost thought you'd forgotten I made your favorite."

Roxas smiles. He snatches the sticky bun Oliver tosses in his direction. He tears off a chunk of bread, popping it in his mouth. The warm gooey sweetness permeating his tongue.

"And who's this?" Oliver asks as he pats away the flour coating his hands.

"Eh, this is just an acquaintance." Roxas says as he leans against the table. Sora couldn't help but looks to him with slight offense. He would've at least thought his stubbornness and persistence would've earned him the title 'friend' now. "He helped pay for my things so I'm showing him around."

"Nice to meet you, sir." Sora says as he exchanges a handshake with the baker.

"Likewise. So let me guess, Jesse was about to get into another scuffle?" Oliver teases as he goes back to kneading the dough.

Roxas rolls his eyes as Sora laughs. "Really lucky guess." Sora suddenly turns to Roxas. "I don't think you ever told me your name. Jesse, huh?"

Roxas stares to Oliver with an annoyed look. Oliver only kept kneading with a smug look on his face. "I thought you were on my side." He mumbles.

"Well, I just thought it would be appropriate for him to know who he's looking for when he comes back." Oliver says.

"If he comes back." Roxas retaliates, not even staring at Sora.

"Uh, 'he' has a name." Sora interjects, pointing to himself.

"Yeah," Roxas finishes the bun, sucking his fingers and wiping them on his cloak. "I just don't care what it is."

"Now Jesse." Oliver chimes in. "Is that anyway to talk to the prince?"

The sweetness of the sticky bun turns to sawdust in Roxas' mouth. Prince? Prince Sora? That's who saved him?

"Prince? Prince Sora?" Roxas stutters.

Sora shrugs, and his hood slips a bit. Roxas catches a glimpse of his spiky brown hair.

A rush of emotions floods his sense, but the one feeling snaking its way into his heart is the reminder of his father's long-time vengeance on the king. And here was the king's son, right in front of him.

Roxas slides his hand to braise over the sheath of his knife.

But if he's here, then that means the guards have joined him. But Roxas could take them down. Because he can think on his feet.

Roxas can see the plan form in front of him as Oliver hands Sora a slice of lemon cake.

Now that he's agreed to teach Sora how to fight, they'll be spending more time together. If he can gain enough of Sora's trust, he might possibly invite him to the castle. His birthday is in a matter of weeks. No doubt a celebration is upon them. Roxas retracts his hand from his knife and steps closer.

He changes his posture. He widens his eyes and does his best to look surprised. "I, I'm sorry. Your majesty." He nearly chokes on the word majesty. And he had to force himself to slightly bow as is proper.

"Please," Sora waves off. "Call me Sora."

Sora walks up to lean next to Roxas, chewing on the slice of lemon cake. "So, aren't you supposed to be, inside the castle?" Roxas asks.

Sora swallows the sweet before speaking. "Well, I decided to take a visit to the marketplace and see the villagers. I remember I used to do it when I was younger, but we stopped when I got older. And it's changed a lot."

"Huh, I'll give you points for not using 'commoners'." Roxas said.

Sora issues a look of disgust. "Ugh, I hate that word. I mean it's so . . . uh, what's the word . . ."

"Degrading?" Roxas finishes.

"Exactly."

"Tell me about it."

Oliver hands Roxas a slice. He takes the piece, thankful to cease the growling in his stomach.

"You like lemon cake too?" Sora gestures to the slice topped with whipped cream.

"Yeah, it's one of my favorites."

"Oh, cheers." Sora jokes as he holds up his slice.

Roxas rolls his eyes, but lifts his slice in a toast. They bop pieces and take a bite. Oliver watches them with observant eyes.

"I take it your smiles are hard to come by?" Sora jokes.

Roxas rolls his eyes.

"So how did you manage to sneak past your guards?" Roxas asks. He boosts himself up onto the table, crossing his legs.

"Uh, well actually, I came with the head of our guards, but I ditched him. Accidentally." Sora says as he wipes his hands. "No doubt he'll either panic and call the rest of the guards or come and look for me himself in every nook and cranny in the marketplace. He has the castle's emblem on his back, so I had to ditch him in order to not get noticed."

Sora digs through his satchel bag, looking for his wallet. Suddenly he hears Oliver's voice. "Not today, son." He says.

He looks to him in confusion. "How else can I pay for the bun?"

"You're going to be turning seventeen soon. The bun is a gift. Same for you Jesse."

Roxas looks to him in surprise as he hops off the table. "You sure Oliver?"

"Please, I insist."

Sora and Roxas looks to each other, exchanging a look of surprise.

"Thank you." Sora says.

Continuing on, Roxas remains two steps behind Sora as he wanders the marketplace. A look of excitement on his face as he checks out each stall. The boys stay close to one another as they pass guards patrolling the village. They both tuck their heads down and pull on their hoods making sure not to be noticed.

They come across a woman singing a beautiful lullaby. She wears a long dress under her cloak. Long curling tendrils of ebony hair spill forth from her hood. Her hands remain folded neatly in front of her, the woman sang with a wispy and ethereal voice, one infused with control, less like an angel's and more like that of a ghost, heartrending and full of mystery.

At her feet was a can for change.

Sora digs through his satchel and pulls forth three gold coins. Roxas' eyes widen in surprise as he approaches and drops the coins into the can. The woman continues to sing, but spares Sora a thankful smile. Sora smiles back and take a few steps back to give her space.

"Do you know her?" He asks Roxas.

"Uh, I think she works at a dress parlor." He answers.

At the end of the song, the crowd claps and she takes a timid bow.

Sora and Roxas were about to turn away when Sora's eye caught three men, dressed in clothes that looked as if they hadn't been washed in a week approach her. Sora snatches Roxas wrist with a harsh grip.

"What?"

Sora keeps his gaze ahead and Roxas follows to the men. Roxas' lip curls in disgust, his hand disappearing underneath his cloak. From the way they walk, they're drunkards, thinking they can easily access what the woman is so falsely offering. They crowd around her, and she burrows into herself as they boys here disgusting things whispered to her.

"We need to help her." Sora says, but Roxas stops him.

"You haven't even learned on thing and now you're suddenly ready to take them on?" Roxas questions.

"She needs our help." Sora hisses, wrenching his arm loose, ignoring Roxas as he hisses his name.

"Come on, just one walk around the Square. A lovely lady like you shouldn't be walking around here alone." the man with a snaggletooth smile speaks.

"No. Now leave me alone." she demands.

But the man only smiles and slides his hand down her back.

"Hey!" Sora snaps. Their attention draws to her, and Roxas facepalms himself as he watches Sora's approach. He reaches the woman and in one swipe of his arm pushes her behind him "Leave her alone."

"Oh?" the man's stagger is pathetic. He might be able to throw a good punch to start things, but in a group, that's a challenge. He hiccups as he speaks the next sentence. "Who are you?"

Roxas goes rigid, but Sora maintains his composure. "My name is of no importance. And you probably won't remember anyway, given you're too drunk to register anything."

"Did you just insult me?" he hiccups.

"My point exactly. Now look, I don't want any trouble. So why you just move along and we can all go home -"

The man raises his hand and backhands Sora, sending him sprawling. Another shaggy-haired man presses his boot on Sora's back, pinning him to the grit. The woman screeches as the man grabs her wrist.

Roxas reaches in and snatches his knife. He heads towards the men, and grabbing the arm that holds the woman, Roxas exchanges a quick 'Hey', then sucker punching him right in the face. His grip on the woman releases immediately. By now a crowd has gathered around them, watching as the battles takes place.

_I'll give you a show_, Roxas thinks.

Roxas spins down and kicks the man's legs out from underneath him. Before the man's head even hits the ground, the hilt of Roxas' knife slams into the crown. He crashes to the floor, nearly unconscious.

The man pining Sora now rushes Roxas, the woman helping Sora up. Roxas rolls on the balls of his feet, and waits until the last second, then drops to the ground and rams him with his shoulder. The man's forward momentum carries him over the top of Roxas and he lands face-first crashing into a table that collapses underneath his weight. He's strong and quick, but he doesn't know how to anticipate the unexpected.

"Jesse!" Sora screams.

Roxas whirls around and he arches back as a third man's sword whizzes over his head, plunging deep into the chest of the one pushing to his feet. Roxas hood flaps off, but he catches his hat as he felt it teeter. The man makes a wet gurgling noise in the back of his throat and reaches one hand up to grasp the blade embedded in his chest. Blood pools beneath his palm and slides along the silver in a single, sinuous streak as he slowly crumples to the floor.

Sora can't remember how to breathe.

Without waiting, Roxas knocks aside the man's blade, out of his hands, and spins burying the blade of his knife between the man's shoulder blades. Prying it lose a second later, he comes back around, grabbing the hilt of the sword and yanking it free.

He spins the sword above his head before switching both weapons into different hands. The knife behind the man's head, ready to slice it, and the sword pointing until the tip digs into the soft skin beneath his chin.

Sora gags, bile rising at the back of his throat as he watches the blade drip along the silver of the blade, yet Roxas seemed immune. The cold stark glare of his eyes could cut as much as convince.

The man trembles, his hands shaking and palms sweaty. Roxas has the crowd suspended in a moment of intense anticipation as he keeps both weapons steady.

"Please." The man breathes the word, but even that slight movement scrape his skin across Roxas' blade. The tip digs into his chin, and tears sting his eyes. A hot trickle of blood slowly snakes its way down the man's neck.

Roxas sighs and lowers the sword. He switches his grip on the hilt, and thrusts it into the ground, barely missing the man's toe. He's shocked, and looks to Roxas.

"Get. Out." He hisses.

The man, along with some other member, gather the man who got stabbed and carry him down the street while the man who crashed into the table struggles to push himself to his feet.

Roxas sheaths his knife, pulls his hood over his head and walks over to Sora and the woman. By now, a small red mark with faint finger outlines were forming on his cheek.

"Good luck explaining that to your mom." Roxas points out.

The woman breaks away from Sora's hands with a gentle pat and looks to Roxas.

"Thank you." She speaks softly.

"Are you okay?" Roxas asks.

"I'll be fine. Thank you, again." She says, struggling to smile. Clearly she'd been as affected as Sora, who appeared whiter than before.

Sora hands her the can and she shyly smiles. She walks off a little shaken as her mother comes out after the commotion. Looking back at Sora and Roxas, they couldn't tell if she as mad or grateful.

Sora looks back to the pool of blood left by the man Roxas, stabbed. It was weird. It was so much easier to imagine killing a man, but seeing it in real life was different. Sora looks to Roxas who's' still making sure the woman's made it back safely.

Roxas catches him staring, but Sora doesn't look away.

"What?" Roxas asks.

"How did you do that?" Sora blurts.

"Do what?"

"Fight like that, with the blood and the men, how are you not, breaking out?!" Sora babbles on.

Roxas sighs and shrugs. "I've been fighting my whole life, when it comes to taking a life, you just grow numb to it." He admits.

And it was close to the truth as he could tell. He had been killing his life, and he has grown used to it.

"You re-thinking this whole thing?" Roxas asks as Sora drifts off into a self-induced trance.

"No," Sora answers and Roxas looks to him eyebrows raised in surprise. "I still want to learn."

Before Roxas could answer, Sora's name was called. "Sora!"

Looking back, Leon was approaching in a jog, a worried expression on his face.

"There you are. I've been looking all over for you!" he rams on. "What happened?! Where did you get that?" he motions toward Sora's slap mark.

"Long story. I'll tell you on the way back." Sora said.

"And who's this?" Leon says to Roxas.

"Depends on who you're asking." Roxas snaps.

Leon's face contorts to irritation. He had a huge pet peeve about respect when it comes to people. And with already half his day with Roxas, Sora knew he loved to irritate and disobey authority.

Sora steps in front of Leon to halt his walk towards Roxas. "This is Jesse. He helped me in the fight. Or more like he took over."

"I'd offer a hand but it's clear we have no intentions of getting to know one another." Roxas said with a sarcastic tone.

"Maybe because you lack respect boy."

"You'll get my respect when you earn it." Roxas bites back.

"Okay!" Sora defuses them. "Well I need to get back. Jesse I'll see you tomorrow."

Sora guides Leon over to the royal carriage, where they mount the steps. As the horses trot off, Sora looks behind and waves Roxas off.

Roxas felt the corners of his mouth twitch as he waves back.

Once the carriage made a left turn out of sight, Roxas turns and rushes towards the woods.


	4. Chapter 3

As Sora gazed out the window of the carriage, he had already explained to Leon about the slap-mark on his face. Leon gave his fair share of words in disappointment, ditching Leon in the Square and about how things could've been different if he'd had proper form.

Sora tuned him out after the first three words left his mouth. He let his mind wander off to the scene back in the Square. Due to his already given knowledge about combat and where to make effective injuries, he knows for a fact that Jesse didn't kill that man. Just enough to make a warning to the man. Let him know she's under his protection. Still, the blood and violence, it shocked Sora how he so easily underestimated it all. But it only made him more determined to learn how to _properly_ fight. Also because he never really _needed_ to fight.

Looking back, the more Sora analyzed the lessons and blocks and parries Leon taught him, the more he felt he was getting ripped off. Compared to how Jesse fought and how fluid yet deadly his moves seemed, it made Sora realize that form wasn't the main point of fighting, but how to strike down your opponent. If Sora had gone into a fight with the moves Leon taught him, he'd be down after his beginning words as Leon taught him to start every fight.

Sora sighed as they entered through the gates leading into the castle. Pulling his hood over his head, Sora readied himself. The carriage stops and Sora threw open the door for himself. He slams it shut behind him, the bang echoing through the courtyard.

"Hey!" Leon called. "What gives?"

Sora ignored him and marched up the brick steps into the castle without a word.

He made sure to avoid the doorway leading into the foyer where his mother usually spends her time reading novels and rushes up the steps, disappearing into his room.

Throwing his cloak to the floor, Sora walks into his bathroom, pours some water into the bowl poised in front of his mirror and wets a cloth. Placing it gingerly on his skin, he winces before the cool moisture tames the heat from the hand mark.

If his mother were to find out about this, she'd never let him into the marketplace again. And even if he were to manage to convince her, she'd send out the entire guard entourage along with him.

Sitting on the vanity stool, Sora runs through his head on what to do about Leon. He'd spent too many years with him to assume he's only ripping the family off of money. He wouldn't get fired, and simply not just on Sora's suspicions. The thought of having him replaced or at least set aside for another day of separate training, didn't seem too bad. But Sora had a feeling his parents would be less than willing in letting in a villager come into the castle without a proper background check. And with the battle in the marketplace bound to come up somehow, Sora knew Jesse would be exiled from the castle. Not to mention he'd have to consult with Jesse first to see if he even wanted to come to the castle. With the way he acted with Leon, and even when he met Sora, it's clear he has problems with authority.

Sora would have to sneak out from the castle, whether with or without his parents' consent. But to do that, resolved back to his mother not seeing the mark or else the idea with be shot straight to hell.

Looking back in the mirror, the washcloth was already proving its worth. The marks were diminishing, and redness fading. Hopefully it'll look like something of an accidental scratch before dinner.

Quickening his pace to hurry home, Roxas stays to the side of the dirt road as on-goers pass him by. His hood up, he peeks to the side and sees no sign of anyone following him. As he makes it to the fork in the road, he takes a sharp right and onto the familiar trail to the woods to his home.

Passing the familiar forest trails leading to the many of his many set snare traps, Roxas turns a cheek, more important things at hand.

Soon his home comes into view and she quickens his pace still until he walks up the stone steps. Barging through the door, Roxas flips off his hood as he continues up the steps in a bee-line for Xemnas' Study; of which he spends most of his time, leaving Saix basically in charge of everything. The only time he emerges from it, and even rarely then, is when he wants to spar with Roxas or teach him a new deadly move.

"Hey, Jesse!" Demyx calls from a bedroom, but Roxas ignores him.

As he continues down, he hears Saix call him this time. "Jesse! Get down here!"

Axel open another bedroom door, curious by the commotion, and sees Roxas waling with a determined destination. Leaning against the doorframe, he smirks as he sees Roxas pass him by.

"Jesse!" Saix yells to him.

But Roxas has already grasped the bras knob the thrust open the door, his pace not stopping until he reaches the wide desk of his study, Xemnas reading a novel, the back of his hand resting against his cheek, his hair is long, reaching to about mid-back, silver in color, and some of it falls over his shoulders. His orange eyes swaying across as he continues to read. It wasn't until Roxas came right up to the desk that his eyes flicked up to him.

"Ah, Jesse, please come in." he says in his usual calm voice. "Did you have an interesting day at the market?" he asks as he folds his book closes his book.

Roxas took off his bureau and tossed it aside onto an armchair. "In a way."

"Jesse!" Saix hisses from the doorway. "Get out of here." He speaks through grit teeth.

"But I just thought dad would want to hear of my interesting day at the marketplace." Roxas speaks with a rhetorical tone.

"No one cares." Saix hisses as he's about to grab Roxas' arm.

"Even about the part where I ran into Prince Sora?" Roxas shouts the last part so everyone's head turns to them in the study.

Looking back at Xemnas' shocked face, in a blink it goes back to its usual calm posture as he pushes himself up from the seat. Walking around, Saix moves back as if exiled back by an invisible force. Xemnas drapes an arm around Roxas' shoulder, smiling a mischievous grin.

"You ran into the Prince this afternoon? Please Jesse, tell me all about it." Xemnas leads Roxas out of the study, as they pass Saix, Roxas gives him a sly smile.

Xemnas gathered everyone at the dining table. No one said a word as Xemnas and Roxas entered the room. Xemnas took his spot at the head of the table, Roxas taking the seat to his right, Saix to the left. The other members gathered at the table, looks of nervousness on their faces. It was rare for Xemnas to come out of his secluded study unless it was to give retribution. Sometimes it was something different, but everyone always got on edge because it was usually punishment.

"The reason why I've gathered you all here is because Jesse, has some special news to tell us."

Everyone took their seats and looks of admiration and jealousy travel across the table as Roxas was sitting at the head of the table. A sly smile on his face, Xemnas stood behind him, gripping the back of the chair.

"It would seem that he had a run in with his majesty, Prince Sora." Gazes turn to Roxas, who holds his smile as he gazes at Axel and Demyx, giving them a reassuring yet indiscriminate nod of his head. "Now, Jesse, why don't you tell us about that experience?"

Roxas clears his throat. "Uh well, it was as Oliver's tent after he helped me settle a deal. He told me he wants to learn how to _fight_." Roxas paused long enough to insert air quotes, hooking his fingers like raptor claws. "Then he said something about how what they teach him in the castle is not real fighting, so since he paid for my things, he said I owe him. And I then agreed to teach him to fight."

"And what exactly will you gain by teaching that spoiled runt our moves?" Larxene says with an accusing tone.

"Well, my lonely witch-had," Roxas says, earning a few snickers among the teammates. "If I can gain enough of his trust, with his birthday coming up, he might invite me to the castle. No doubt there will be a celebration."

Xemnas chuckles as he places a hand on Roxas' shoulder. "You _brilliant_ child!" he pulls Roxas close, caressing his cheek. "You have that same conniving mind that made me the leader of this organization."

"Yet he's never even attempted to kill the King." Xigbar murmurs.

"What?!" Xemnas snaps.

"I just don't understand why you don't just storm the castle and take the king out."

"Xigbar!" Saix shouts to him.

"Well for one, there are guards, _everywhere_." Zexion chimes in.

"Xemnas would be too easily recognizable." Axel adds.

"And one does not simply waltz into the castle, dumbass." Vexen says.

"Unless escorted, or welcome by the members of the royal family." Xemnas finishes. He turns to Roxas. "Well done, Jesse. I have taught you well."

"So what should I do with Sora? I assume you don't want him learning our moves." Roxas says.

"True, and while a few basics wouldn't hurt, you do whatever it takes for him to trust you." Xemnas breaks off from Roxas and starts to walk around the table. Each member growing rigid as Xemnas passes them by. "This is the perfect opportunity for you, my son, to infiltrate the castle and take down the King. And what better way than on his son's birthday."

"What would be a better way of revenge, Xemnas?" Roxas asks. "Killing the king, or his son?"

Looks turn to Roxas, suspicion and curiosity on their faces. "Elaborate, Jesse." Xemnas urges on.

"If you think about it, he's already lost one son." Roxas starts, trying to see if he imagined the sudden looks of nervousness. "If he lost another, wouldn't it possibly break him? Imagine, the King devastated by the loss of both sons, on their birthday. The family's all he's got. With the loss of one son, he's bound to be more protective of his other. But if he's gone, what else is there for him, or the Queen. Something's bound to snap."

Xemnas ponders on his suggestion, grasping his chin. "If, you think you can handle it, if you wish, you mays strike down both the King and the royal family."

A smile crawls across Roxas' face as he takes in Xemnas' words. "Thank you father. Thank you so much."

"So, when are you and the Prince meeting?" he asks as he makes his full circle around the table.

"Well, after a scruff in the marketplace, and the Prince winding up getting backhanded, He might stay clear of the marketplace, but there's a definite chance he'll sneak out."

Xemnas nods. "Very well. See to it that you get there by noon. Knowing his duties and responsibilities, he'll be done by then. You are to set up a meeting point in the woods, in secret. From there, you will teach him. But remember to remain elusive."

"Yes, father." Roxas obeys.

"Very good. Now all of you, get some sleep." Xemnas dismisses them.

"Well wait, Jesse." Demyx speaks up. "Isn't your birthday coming up soon?"

Roxas thinks little of it, but as he's close to the door, he notices the members shooting Demyx a glare. Demyx knows he did something wrong, yet he refuse to back down. He continues to stare at Roxas, some form of pleading in his eyes. So Roxas speaks on his behalf. "I can't think of a better present than finally ending his royal highness' reign."

Everyone's shoulders seem to relax. Roxas breaks their gaze as he leaves the room.

It makes Roxas curious to know what it is about his birthday that makes everyone so nervous. Through the years he's heard several whispers about the Prince's birthday as well. Yet Roxas never knew the official date of the Prince's, something about the two made the members more, cautious around him.

When he was younger, Roxas remembers how the members seemed to be as joyous as they could be on his birthdays, but now as he reaches the age of seventeen, they seem to be more nervous. He can't count on his fingers the number of suspicious looks he gets as he walks down the hall, trains and studies. He does his best to ignore them, his own nagging feeling of suspicion germinating in his gut.

As he reaches his room, he looks to see his burlap sack on his bed. He'd already given Vexen his wire and tubing, and with plenty of food leftover, Xaldin actually gave him a look of approval.

Roxas swipes the bag to the floor. He goes to his closet, throws open the double doors and shoves aside his few items of clothing to find his rack of weapons.

Several knives with different blades with different purposes, two bows he crafted with the help of Axel, two dozen arrows, a pair of axes and a lance. With the night overtaking the kingdom, he preps himself for the day ahead.

Sora's hand mark had swelled down as he bounds down the steps to dinner. Walking into dining room, the kitchen staff had just set down his father's favorite meal, his mother calmly sipping a cup of tea. Shaking off his nerves, Sora walks in and greets his parents.

"Hello mother, father." He says as he kisses his mother hello.

"Hello sweetheart." His mother greets.

"Son." his father speaks.

An uneasy feeling of nerves pooled into Sora's stomach as he took his seat and the maids set down his plate of food. Sora was just about to take his second bite of potatoes when his mother spoke up. "So how was your fight in the marketplace, honey?"

Sora choked on his bite and had to swallow several gulps of his drink before he could regain composure. "Uh, uh . . . well . . . I . . ." he stutters.

His mother and father looked to him, both with such distinct poker faces, he couldn't tell if his father was on his side or not. He realizes he was babbling, so he stopped and took a deep breath. With no more meaningless words pouring out of his mouth, he placed his hands in his lap.

"What did Leon tell you?" He asks.

"Squall." His mother corrects.

"He likes to be called Leon, sometimes." Sora counters.

"Sora," His father's voice chimed in. "what happened in the marketplace."

Sora exhales deeply and swallows thickly. "These men were harassing a woman, and no one was helping her." He brings his gaze to meet his father's. Hoping he'll catch the reason of his intentions, Sora hopes his eyes help in his plea. "I needed to step in. And then, it didn't go as, planned. So a new friend I made stepped in and took them down easily."

His nerves creep as his parents don't say anything, intending he needs to explain himself more.

"I realize it was wrong of me to start a fight, but I couldn't just stand by and do nothing." Sora goes on. "The things they were saying to her were just, grossly disgusting. I understand you're upset by me, and I do deserve a punishment, but please, this is just one time, it won't happen again. But this if, anything, proves that I need better training than just Squall. The way my, friend, took down that man, who was five times his size, it proved to me that the teaching I've been giving are useless when it comes to dealing with problems in the village."

His mother and father exchange a look between them and his mother tosses aside a set of letters in aggravation. A sense that she'd given up. Sora looks to his father who sets aside a glass of wine. "Look son, we understand, and we're proud of you for standing up for others. But part of being a warrior is knowing what fight is yours. Also, this has given us thought that, maybe the way we teach things here in the castle does counter with the things learned in the village."

Sora looks to his father, hope igniting in his chest.

"So, after your mature display, we've decided to allow you to go to through the village unsupervised. However there will be guards on patrol in the area."

Sora looks to his father who smiles, his mother, while she still looks hesitant, nods in agreement.

A smile comes across his lips as he catapults from his seat to his mother, swinging his arms around her neck and pulling her into a tight embrace. "Thank you." He says. "Thank you." Over and over he repeated it. "Thank you, mom. Dad. This is incredible!" he runs around to give his father a hug and his father pats his back. "So, um, there's something else also." Sora added as he takes is seat again. "My friend, offered to teach me, but we didn't get a chance to decide an official time and place."

"Would he consider coming to the castle?" His father asks.

"I don't know. I mean the way he and Squall talked, he doesn't seem to keen following to authority." Sora answers.

"Do you two have a day when you're starting?" His mother asks as she resumes reading her letters.

"Uh, I guess tomorrow. I mean the fact that we haven't made anything official gives him another reason to come back to talk to me." Sora says.

"Alright, I'd advise you to go around nine o'clock." His mother says. "Do you know where he lives?"

Sora pauses. "Um, no, but he said he's not allowed to have friend over. Strict parents."

His mother looks to him, Sora simply shrugs his shoulders. It was thankfully enough for his mom to go back to her reading. Sora could tell when his mom was doing one of her undercover evaluations of new friends Sora makes. He could feel her judging him already given he's from the village and managed to take down three to four men.

The thought briefly making Sora rethinking the whole thing, but once more, he lets it go.

After dinner, Sora retreated to his room as the workers cleaned off the table. As he approached his room, a maid comes out of the bathroom. "Sir, your bath is ready."

Sora nods and shuts his door behind him after giving her a smile. Soaking in the hot water, his bare knees tucked against his chest, Sora scrubs off the dirt and sweat from today, and even washes his hair. Wrapping himself in a towel, Sora walks out to find a night tunic laid out for him. Crawling between the sheets, the quilt spread out provides instant warmth.

Sora looks out his three paneled window. The bare skeletal remains of the trees tap the window, as if begging to be let in. A full moon peaked out from behind a turret, a luminescent halo surrounding it, casting away all demons of the night. The thought of him actually learning to fight, excites him.

Suddenly, he hears the hinges of his door as it opens. He hears the rustle of clothing and then the feeling of a hand pressing down on the corner of the mattress. A moment later and he felt his mother's lips brush his temple. The remnants of that morning spritz perfume invaded Sora's nostrils, an airy blend of apricots and field flowers in full bloom.

Even after Sora's mother left his room, the calmness she had brought with her remained, soothing Sora's nerves and robbing the pressing darkness of its powers.

In its place, sleep closed in to claim him.

A cool breeze rushes through the village refreshing everyone as the sun sits at high noon. A burlap sack filled with food and a canteen of spring water, and a leather bag filled with the weapons Roxas was going to let Sora use on their day of training.

He's stopped by Oliver's tent to tell him to inform Sora to follow the trail of twigs Roxas broke off from naked trees.

Roxas now sits on a tree stump, sharpening his knife. A steady stream flows down along an outcropping of rocks Roxas always perches on to hunt fish. This is one of his biggest sacrifices in getting the plan rolling. This clearing in the woods was one of the few places no one, not even the members of the organization knew about. Axel was the only one who he brought with, but still he rarely comes along, knowing when Roxas leaves to take this trail, it's to be alone.

With his hair covered by his beret, cloak hanging off a dogwood branch, Roxas kept checking the cut he'd received from a mission last night. Still slightly stinging from the breeze. The gauze has not yet bled through, but he packed extra just in case it gets worse during the training.

Will Sora even find his way? If he doesn't, then Roxas is left with the burden of tracking him down. Then again it shouldn't be that difficult to find an idiot stumbling around in the woods, cracking twigs and snapping branches.

Though it's a surprisingly short time before Sora appears. He pushes aside the branches of some foliage and steps into the clearing.

"Nice to see you can follow directions." Roxas mocks.

Sora shoots him a smirk glare as Sora removes his cloak and hangs it on the branch with Roxas. He was wearing a short-sleeve tunic and black pants with leather hunting boots. Compared to Roxas' where they pinch and blister his toe, his looked form-fitting but comfortable.

"This place is so cool." Sora complements.

"Thanks, it's one of the few places I get good game."

"Cool. So, how's it going?" Sora asks as he approaches Roxas.

Roxas looks to Sora, as if looking for the trap. "What's happening right now?" Roxas asks.

"I'm befriending you. Sort of." Sora answers. "I read a book last night. Some of it."

"Maybe if you'd read it to the end, it would've said we don't need to do this." Roxas retorts.

"Good news, my parents don't think you're insane."

Roxas quirks an eyebrow at him as he sets aside his knife. "What?"

"Well, they found out about the fight, undoubtedly through Leon, and after a series of conversations are too elaborate to go into, they said I can go through the kingdom without being supervised by my guards."

"Ah," Roxas says as she unzips the leather bag. "So now you're a semi-free bird?"

"Ha-ha. At least I managed to give you a good name for my mom. She might even let me take you to the castle if you behave."

Roxas' head perks up. "Really?"

"Yeah, oh, which reminds me, would you mind coming to the castle?" Sora asks.

"No not at all." Roxas answers nonchalantly.

"Oh, and you're welcome by the way. I told my mom you have strict parents so you can't have anyone over."

Roxas looks to him in surprise. "How'd you find out ab out that?"

Sora looks to him, eyebrows raised. "I didn't. It was just a cover-up."

"Well, you're dead on." Roxas admits. "So how about we begin?"

"Sure." Sora says as he follows Roxas to a small dirt circle at the epicenter of the clearing.

"So let me just say that it's an honor to be your teacher, Sora." Roxas starts. "But be advised, I'll throw a lot at you. Everything I've learned from my own mentors," he flinches as he removes his leather jacket. "And my own bruises." He pats his arm to ensure a tight wrap.

"What happened?" Sora asked with concerned eyes.

"The job." Roxas vaguely answers. "Now, combat is about controlling conflict, putting the battle on your terms. You should always be acting, never reacting. Now step forward."

Sora steps forward, flexing his fingers.

"How much training have you had?" Roxas asks, taking a fighting stance.

"A little." Sora answers.

Roxas raises an eyebrow in question, a sly smile on his lips. In an instant, he rushes a fisted hand towards Sora, who blocks with his forearm, but Roxas spins down and sweeps a leg, kicking Sora's legs out from underneath him. Sora lands flat on his back with a grunt.

"Uh, ow." He says.

"Good block." Roxas says as he offers a hand up. "But you need to be quicker. Try to anticipate your enemy's next move while you're fighting."

Sora grunts and rubs his head as he's pulled to his feet. Despite his conscious screaming not to show Jesse how weak he seemed, he didn't care at the moment. Had he known Jesse would be _this_ kind of teacher, he'd brought along armor.

"What exactly do they teach you, at the castle?" Roxas asks.

"Uh, just how to block, parry and push off. I was taught to strike, then back away."

"So, like jab them, then run?" Roxas snickers.

"Their whole point was to stun the enemy, then run as fast as you can. The whole point was to get out of that situation." Sora snaps.

"Understandable." Roxas still snickers. "Come on, again."

For the next few hours, Roxas showed Sora all of the available weapons he had. The different styles of bows and what they're good for, how to steal another man's weapon and on looting another person for salvage. They'd spent the entire afternoon based around combat, and Sora picked up well he was a fast learner, just like Xemnas said Roxas was. By three o'clock, Roxas had shown Sora all of the basics, and while Sora was still learning, he seemed to show promise.

They now sit on the ground, under the shade of a weeping willow the remains of their lunch of fish, berries and cinnamon rolls cast off to the side. Roxas had pulled out Larxene's knife collection and was showing Sora the blades of each knife and the purposes they had. Roxas pulled out one of Larxene's favorites, a clip-point blade. The blade was concavely formed to make the tip thinner and sharper. The sharp tip is useful as a pick, or for cutting in tight places.

"So the back edge of the clip may have a false edge that could be sharpened to make a second edge. If it is sharpened, in increases the knife's effectiveness in piercing." Roxas explains. He flips the blade over on both sides and Sora looks to it with intrigued eyes.

"What about that one?" he points to a knife that's blade shrinks down to an exquisite tip.

"This one is known as a needle-point blade." Roxas says as he exchanges the knives. "It's symmetrical, highly tapered, twin-edged blade is often seen in fighting blades. Its long narrow point offers good penetration but is liable to breakage if abused. Although most people call it a knife, this design may also be referred to as a stiletto or dagger due to its use as a stabbing weapon."

After a few more samples, Roxas lets Sora pick his favorite, and shows him some techniques on how to flip the weapon from blade to hilt and how to block, swipe and pierce.

"Alright, so we'll count a solid touch from the blade as a strike." Roxas says.

Sora widens his stance and rolls on the balls of his feet. Roxas walks towards him, the resolve he feels to kill him blazing into something hard and bright in the face of his courage. Roxas' blade whistles through the air, and Sora leaps back to dodge the blow. Spinning, Roxas taps him with the hilt before Sora can raise his arms in defense.

"My point." Roxas says, not bothering to hide his smirk.

Sora circles him. "Lucky shot."

Roxas lashes out again, but Sora's ready. Blocking him with the middle of the blade, he whirls beneath Roxas' outstretched arms and slams the hilt into his thigh.

Pride keeps Roxas from swearing at the pain. Instead, Roxas sweeps his feet out from under Sora. He flips in midair and rolls forward as he lands, coming up with his knife ready. The controlled grace of his movements would make Leon proud.

"You're fast. That's good." Roxas says, advancing towards Sora.

"I learn from the best."

They lock, parry, and break apart. "Aw, you're gonna make me cry." Roxas teases.

Sora was strong and quick, but Roxas knows he doesn't know how to anticipate the unexpected. Roxas steps back, inviting an attack, and Sora charges forward, swinging the knife like a butcher slicing the head from a sheep. Roxas waits until the last second, then drop to the ground and ram Sora with his shoulder. Sora's forward momentum carries him over the top of Roxas and he lands face-first in the grass.

Sora spits dry blades of grass from his mouth, and swears, but a new respect for Roxas in his eyes.

Roxas laughs like he can't help it. Sora couldn't believe it. He was actually smiling, _laughing_, teeth and all. Had he ever seen Roxas smile before? No, he realized, because right now, it was such a jarring thing to witness that for a moment it felt as though he was sharing the woods with a stranger. Sora stares at him, a smile flitting across his lips.

"You need to be ready for an opponent who does the unexpected." Roxas offers Sora a hand up. Sora takes it, closing his fingers over Roxas without breaking their gaze. "Nice work."

With just a few hours of daylight left, Sora was eager to get to try and use a bow. Given their size, and the small blood spots, Roxas decided it was best to leave them at his house. Thankfully, he was given advice from Axel to hide some in the woods long ago; managing to slide by with the lie that he'd simply lost them.

The sun is drowning beneath the weight of a purple twilight as Sora follows Roxas as he leads him through bushes, across streams until the come to a secluded tree. Its skinny trunk and thin, graceful branches reach for the heavens as if hoping to scrape the stars. Roxas steps into a bush that hugs the base of a tree, its branches curving like a bell, its leaves brushing the ground. Beneath it, a small hollow space rests, where Roxas pulls out a bow and a sheath containing seven arrows. Roxas hands the sheath to Sora while he retrieves the bow.

"Why do you hide them?" Sora asks.

"Uh, I just like to keep some in the woods in case I ever find myself needing a weapon or if one breaks while I'm hunting." Roxas answers.

"I don't know Jesse, you seem to know these woods like the back of your hand." Sora points out.

"Years of exploration." Roxas says as he knots the string. "Better safe than sorry."

Sora had a feeling he was lying to him, but rather than ask another question and let that iron-gate guard of his snap back into place, Sora keeps quiet as he follows Roxas again to a small secluded spot surrounded by a thin wall of trees.

Roxas climbs up a tree and plucks an apple, dropping it in Sora's hands. Roxas slings the sheath of arrows off his back and leans them against the trunk, then goes over and sets the apple on the stump of an old tree.

Walking back and takes the bow and hands it to Sora. "Alright, from here to that apple is about ten yards. Let's see what you can do."

Roxas stands back while Sora loads an arrow and stands sideways. He brings the arrow up, pulling back the string and taking aim. Roxas studies his form, good. Sora lets the arrow fly, but it pulls up short, sinking into the root of the stump. Sora sighs and Roxas hands him another arrow.

"Try and aim higher." Roxas instructs.

After another shot, and another, one arrow landed higher in the stump, the other flying over the apple and landing in a pile of twigs. Sora sigh in aggravation.

Roxas perks a smile. "Takes time Sora." He taps Sora's shoulder with another arrow. "Remember the kingdom wasn't built in a day."

"I can do this. One more time." Sora insists as he nocks the arrow. Roxas pulls another one from the sheath.

"Okay, show me what you know. How do you stand?" Roxas asks.

"Body sideways, left foot forward, straight spine."

"Now what?"

"I nock the arrow." And the arrow connect with a soft _tip_.

"Watch your fingers." Roxas instructs. "Draw to your cheek. Remember the three checkpoints."

"Tip of your nose, mouth and chin." Sora reminds.

"Good. Keep both eyes open."

Sora takes a deep breath and pulls it up to his nose. He aims higher, cradling the bow between the crook in his thumb and pointer finger. Tilting his elbow up, he exhales.

Letting the arrow shoot, it pierces the apple and knocks it off the trunk. Sora smiles broadly.

"Nice shot Sora." Roxas compliments.

"Thanks."

Night has nearly reclaimed the sky when the boys finally decide to call it in. Sora helps Roxas hide the bow and arrows, then they make their way back to the clearing where they pack and head back to the village. Sora asking Roxas all different kinds of questions about the weapons they'd trained with today, Roxas adding a few new tips to the combat practice.

As they walk into the village, both pull their hoods over their heads. They cross the bridge and into the North roads. Their plan to visit Oliver again was quickly changed as the sound of galloping horses drew their attention to the gates.

Roxas' heart jars as he recognizes the emblem of the Radiant Garden Kingdom. Sora's eyes widen in surprise.

The king, Ansem, was wearing a long-sleeve brown tunic with puffy disks underneath a brown unbuttoned vest. Around his neck he wore a scarf with the Garden's emblem at the end. His hair was blond and worn long and slicked back. He also sports a short mustache and goatee. His eyes are bright orange, beaming with an importance and determination as he gallops on horse towards the palace.

Beneath the collar of his tunic, a small spit of white, probably bandages.

Sora steps near the roads and follows them towards the caste. Roxas steps back into the shadows of the stalls until the pass.

"Wasn't that the king of Radiant Garden?" Roxas asks, pretending to seem curious.

"Yeah," Sora answers, his attention still on the men. "I need to get back. Thanks for the lessons, let's do it again tomorrow." He tries to finish as he walks backwards towards the castle.

Roxas nods and gives him a thumbs up.

Sora smiles and turns, running toward the gates. "I'll see ya', Jesse!" He calls over his shoulder.

Roxas stares at the castle as the rest of the men on horse enter through the gates to the kingdom. Pivoting on his heels, he speed walks back home.


	5. Chapter 4

Sora walks into the grand foyer of the castle to see a light rippling from behind the double ebony doors of the dining room. Handing his cloak off to a servant, Sora wipes his feet and heads towards the doors.

Peering through the crevice of the doors, he sees King Ansem and his father shake hands in greeting and brush kisses with his mother. It wasn't uncommon whenever Ansem came to visit, but usually he sends a note in advance. These sudden visits usually imply something bad.

Taking a deep breath, Sora pushes the door inward and steps inside. The hinges squeak and the head speak up to meet him.

"Oh Sora." His mother speaks. "Good you're here. Please join us. You remember Ansem."

Sora nods and bows. "Your highness."

"Your Majesty." He replies. "My look at you. I hardly recognized you." He circles his hand and Sora rotates in a circle. "You're turning into quite the young man."

"Thank you sir." Sora replies. "So, if I may ask, what brings on your sudden visit to the Twilight Kingdom?"

"Well, I was responding to your father's letter he sent me." He turns to Sora's father. "Which brings me to my next point. If it's true that the thief is living in your kingdom, I want to clarify that this isn't an act of war."

"I would never-!"

"Gentlemen," Sora's mother Sara, interrupts. She steps between the two men. "Let's not overthink this whole thing. Let's have a seat and discuss this."

They takes their seats around the dining table, which instead of food has a trio stick candle holder and a vase of lilies at its center. After offering glasses of wine, Sora's mother starts the conversation.

"So, Ansem, what brings this sudden thought of war?" His mother asks.

"Well, it was merely a point I wanted to make. And while I know you would never, I did find it rather interesting how the thief only steals from our kingdoms and not yours."

"But, this thief steals valuables we already have, so it would be useless." Sora was quick to say.

"Sora," his mother says, her voice full of warning.

"While I understand your concern, Sir Ansem, I can assure you that this thief has nothing to do with me or my kingdom." His father says.

"Oh I believe you sir, but I also came to address the situation that this thief may move on to other kingdoms. Ad they might not be so understanding." He warns.

"You mean, you think he'll steal from other kingdoms, knowing they'll have the same suspicions?" Sora asks.

"Well I wouldn't a mere commoner that much credit."

"You should never underestimate others." Sora snaps.

"Sora." His mother's voice warns again.

"I'm just saying." Sora looks around the table. "Leon always taught me, "What you know about your enemy is dangerous to them, but what you think you know can be dangerous to you.""

There's a moment of silence and then Ansem laughs. "He's taught you well son, but still a mere commoner able to do what I've seen this man do. It seems irrational."

"What exactly is he capable of?" Sora's father asks.

"He managed to take out several of my guards and even land an arrow at me, as I'm sure you're already aware of from my letter." Ansem says. "The way this young man fights, it is clear he's had years of training."

"What if he's just stealing the stuff to sell for his family, or something? Maybe he's just desperate and poor." Sora suggests.

"Be that as it may, he struck down member of the royal guard and struck at me. Such an act doesn't usually go unpunished." Ansem retorts.

Sora looks down at his lap, fidgeting with his fingers.

"Besides, the royal court and I have recently come to the conclusion he might be a member of Xemnas' assignation army."

Sora's mouth goes dry, and when he swallows, it feels like knives slicing down his throat. The room instantly fills with a tension so suffocating, Sora ends up coughing slightly.

"Xemnas, here?" his mother breathes in fear.

"You didn't know?" Ansem asks.

"Xemnas and I lost contact long ago. I assumed he left after he-" Sora's father immediately stops as the memory chokes his voice out. He swallows thickly and lowers his gaze.

Sora looked around and saw the eyes of his mother on him. She dropped her gaze the second Sora caught her.

"Have there been any other reports?" His mother asks.

"Not that I'm aware. Surely they'd come to you." Ansem says. "And since this thief has done more than enough to prove where his allegiance lies, I have come to the conclusion that it'd be best, if he'd be brought in dead."

Sora's head jerks up to Ansem. His one arm on the rest of the chair, the other his fingers spread around the flat of the glass of his finished wine. Sora's father sighs as he rubs his temple, something he always did when faced with a situation that didn't have many options, Sora's mother was silent.

"You mean, you're going to execute him?" Sora asks.

"If he is in allegiance with Xemnas, than he will surely be of no use to us."

"What about the information he might have?" Sora counters. "Couldn't that be useful to bringing Xemnas down?"

"Xemnas has trained his men to be stubborn, loyal, and merciless. And I can assure you he won't have a problem replacing him even if we did kill him."

"How do you know he's young?" Sara asks.

"He's about your son's height, though a more, muscular built." Ansem describes. "As for anything physical, I'm afraid we're not that successful."

"Maybe he was forced." Sora presses. "What if he was forced into the business and he regrets everything he's doing?"

"Sora," Ansem says. "your compassion for others will make you a beloved king. But you mustn't let that blur your vision of what is more important. This young man, he's killed my guards, he attempted to kill me. And I doubt, if you faced him, he won't hesitate to do the same."

"But it's still killing a _human_. If you do, you're no different." Sora protests.

"Except that it's for justice." Ansem counters. "What if he kills your villagers? Imagine if you spared his life. All the possible families you will disappoint."

"I believe it is not your place to tell my son how to behave." Sora's father interrupts. "If we managed to capture this thief, I won't deny that he could be of use, but he'll be a tough nut to crack."

"He won't, I can promise that. Best we execute him."

"What about my brother?!" Sora wails.

The room falls silent, and Ansem, the red liquid of his wine just about to reach his lips when Sora yelled. Sora glares at him with fierce determination.

"What if he know about my brother?! Xemnas is the head of the organization, if we capture one his minions, we can use him to help find my brother."

"Sora, your brother was kidnapped by the man when you were a mere newborn. Who's to say that as the years passed that he's-"

"He not dead!" Sora shouts suddenly, his voice piping in panic. He slammed his palms on the table, rising from his seat. "_Don't_ say that."

"Sora!" his mother shouts. Sora looks to her, pleading with her to defend him. She regains her composure and sits straighter. "You are excused."

Sora shoots her a look of absolute loathing. It hurts her, he can see it. Not breaking his gaze, Sora kicks back his chair and storms out of the dining hall. Shoving the door open, he stomps out and bounds up the steps to his bed chamber. Behind, Sora can hear his mother apologizing for his 'outburst'. Once at the top of the stairs, his anger blazing, he made a point by sending one of his two bedroom doors slamming shut with a resounding bang.

Inside his room, Sora pressed his back to the double doors. He's taking quick breaths as he slides down to the floor. Resting his elbows on his knees, he ruffles his fingers through his hair. For what felt like the first time in his life, Sora was battling not to hate his parents. Both for not defending his side, when they knew he was right. His eyes water at the mere mention of his brother. Pushing to his feet, he flung himself onto his bed, choking back a sob.

Quick footsteps on the stairs were followed by a gentle knock at his door. It couldn't be his mom, the knock too gentle to be his father. It had to have been one of the housemaids. Sora knew even before he heard the soft voice asking if he would please come down to dinner. He offered no reply. After a moment, he heard a sigh, then the retreat of defeated footsteps.

He lay still for a long time after that, curled up on his side, and tried to ignore the dull ache forming in his head. He reached beneath the lining of his tunic and pulled out the thin chain of a silver necklace. It glimmered in the light. A tiny charm in the shape of a crown rested on the chain, Sora remembers this. It was given to him and his brother when they were born. It has never left his neck for anything. He clasps it into his palm as he buries himself in covers.

Sora heard footsteps on the stairs. The hinges of one door squeaked as he heard his door open ajar.

"Sora," his father says, his voice soft, coaxing. "I want you to know that your mother and I are going to have a talk."

Sora felt on side of his bed sink down as his father sat, and then the weight of one warm hand against his arm. "In the meantime, I want you to keep an eye out for any suspicious activity, okay?"

Sora shifted to sit up. A feeling of gratefulness to have an ally after all. More often than not, his parents struck maddeningly together on most issues. His grasp still on the necklace. His father smiled.

"I remember that." He points to the necklace.

"What happened to Roxas'?" Sora asks, dropping his hand.

His father sighs. "I'm afraid Xemnas stole it along with your brother, the only reason I can think why is to sell it for money. It was worth enough."

Sora looks down and murmurs. "I don't understand. I don't get what her problem is."

His father let his words out in a sigh. "I think she's just afraid."

Sora scowled and twisted around in his covers, huddling to one side. "Still, she should at least stand up for her son."

That made his father laugh. Sora loved the sound of his father's laugh. It was light and airy, like something you might expect to hear from a charming nobleman. "I think part of it is that your mother is the diplomat. The lady of great virtue. And on top of that, she has to worry about a reckless son, who still needs to pick a suitable bride."

Sora snorted into his pillow. "That's all she cares about. She just wants me married and out of the castle."

"Oh, Sora." His father sighed. "Don't be like that. She just wants you to be happy. So cut her a little slack."

"Cut her a little slack?" Sora somehow doubted that his father could be right about his mother getting over his rude outburst, though he hoped she would. He hated fighting with either one of his parents, but for some reason, things always seemed especially bad when he fought with his mother. Maybe it was because she was scarier when she gets mad, because she rarely does. Or maybe likely, maybe it was because they hardly ever argued to begin with, let alone right screamed at each other.

"Sora?"

"Mmm?" Sora murmured, thinking.

"Do you want to talk about what happened with your brother?"

Sora grimaced. He twisted again, trying to straighten the covers so they weren't wadded around him in a tight cocoon. "No," he says. "there's nothing to talk about anyway. It'll only make both of us feel worse."

"Okay," his father says, and patted his side again. It reminded Sora of someone trying to put out a small fire. "Just asking. I'm going to go read now, if that's okay?"

Sora nodded against his pillow. He wanted to be alone.

"But just so you know, there's some peaceful quiet in the attic if you're interested." His father said, then bent down and placed a kiss on Sora's temple. Magically, his headache seemed to subside a little.

After his father left, Sora lay staring at the gleaming glass of his window. His father's word spread through his mind until it was completely occupied. There was something in his words. A hidden message, the kind he and his father always did whenever they were doing something behind his mother's back.

The attic? What could be in the attic that could be of interest?

Come to think of it, Sora never went up into the attic. The place scaring him as a kid, and his newfound duties of his teen years keeping from even thinking of exploring it. But apparently there was something there that his father thought seemed worth exploring.

Sora waited a few more minutes until he heard Ansem and his parents settle in for the night. Creeping out of his room, wearing his chamber slippers, he pads his way towards the corridor leading to the attic. He found the door against the back wall.

Tall and narrow, it looked like the lid of a coffin. No wonder Sora never wanted to go inside. At first glance, it looks like a broom closet. Sora glanced over his shoulder toward the front room. Nothing.

Sora grasped the tarnished bras knob and turned. The door squeaked open, revealing a long, narrow staircase that stretched steeply upward. Square shafts of white moonlight shone down from a window at the top, a million dust motes dancing in and out of the beams. He mounted the steps, shutting the door behind him.

There was no banister leading up, so he held his arms out at either side and braced his hands along the dark wood-paneled walls. The stairs groaned and creaked underfoot, as though murmuring secrets about him.

He took on step after another, and as he drew near the top, an odd feeling began to creep over him. He felt it in his stomach first, a queasy sensation coupled with the slightest hint of vertigo. It made his skin prickle and the tiny hairs on his arms stand at attention.

Reaching the top, he scanned around to find half of the attic's inventory covered with white tarps. Inside, the musty air held an antique thickness and the scent of dust and again books combined to make breathing a chore.

The front room stretched before him long and narrow, lined with rows of tall, sturdy bookshelves that reached almost to the ceiling. Overhead, the tired light of the chandelier burned a dull gold, adding little relief to the accumulated shadows. Sora inched in. He couldn't see much of anything. Carefully he stepped around a mound of ancient-looking tomes gathered near the door. He moved between two shelves and thought about calling out but for some reason, couldn't bring himself to break the dead silence.

Sora's gaze passed up and over the marked spines of countless books, every item categorized by its own number and date, and it made him feel almost as though he were walking through catacombs. When he reached the end, he peered around the shelf to see a counter. Well, really, he saw a lot of books piled on top of something that at one time must have been a counter.

His feet made hollow thumping sounds against the dried-out floorboards as he made his way around. Nothing seemed to be interesting until Sora's eyes settled on a gathering of canvas huddled in one corner, as if they were hiding, not wanting to be seen. Sora wandered over, making sure not to stumble over anything.

Up close, the tarps were thicker than Sora thought, they were near a window that was smaller and round, the only other one other than the one above the stairs. They were fairly coated with dust, organized from tallest to shortest.

Carefully poking his fingers between the canvases, Sora found they were different portraits of the family. One of his father standing proud, with a rapier poking into the ground at his feet, his hand placed over the hilt. Another was a beautiful oil-painting of his mother in a sparkling blue ball gown encrusted with diamonds. The fabric was billowed, as if she were in mid-turn, revealing one of her feet in an elegant slipper and her hair hallowing her head.

The one at the very back was of Sora. He was riding Tula, and he was gazing off into the distance, his cape and hair caught in a gale, wielding a long sword and wearing a necklace with the kingdom's emblem engraved in the gold.

As he leaned them back, he accidentally looked up and found a single canvas, leaning against a support beam, the moonlight seeping through the window seeming to gloss over the thick tarp.

With careful steps, Sora approached it. Curiosity made him rummage through his mind to think of what could be behind the sheet. More importantly why it was casted out from the rest of the portraits.

Sora reached out a hand and in one quick yank, ripped off he sheet. His heat jarred in his chest. The sheet falling to the ground with a hushed whisper.

It was a family portrait, with him _and_ his brother.

In his mother's arms, a beautiful baby boy with blonde hair and sparkling sky blue eyes looked back at him. The boy smiled at him, as if pleased to know he will forever be immortalized in paint. He had a simple white gown given he was merely a few months old. His hair swooped in one direction with multiple spikes just like Sora's. In his grasp, looking too big for his feeble hands, was the matching necklace Sora knew him and Roxas both shared. It was in the shape of a four-pointed star and even if it was a painting, it glimmered in the moonlight like a real star.

Sora shifted to his knees, carefully brushing his fingers over the painting with a featherlike touch. They traced along the baby's chubby and perfectly pink cheeks, along the wispy spikes of hair and outlining the star in his hands.

"Roxas," Sora whispered. Fresh tears filled his eyes, causing the room to swim. Sora blinked and the tears fell, searing the skin of his cheeks.

Roxas tossed aside his sweat-stained tunic and kicked off his pants. As he was stepping into a new pair of trousers, a knock came at his door.

"Just a second." He calls. The knock came again twice as he buttoned his trousers. "One minute."

The knock came in a triple thump. He knew who it was.

"Will you calm down you maniac?! I'm changing!" Roxas shouts.

"Some people can do it _and_ open the door at the same time!" Axel called back.

Roxas groaned as he shrugged on his leather jacket with not shirt underneath and yanks open the door. There stood Axel, picking at some nonexistent dirt under his fingernails.

"What?" Roxas demands.

Axel looks to Roxas like he just noticed he was there. "Oh, is it still Friday? Because I've been out here since, Friday!" he says walking into Roxas' room.

"Please, come in." Roxas sarcastically says. He shuts his door with a bang. "Your voice got here ten minutes ago and has been looking for you."

Axel as usual makes himself comfortable on Roxas' bed while Roxas shrugs off his jacket to put on a shirt. "So how is training his royal pain in the ass?" Axel asks.

"Eh, not too bad. The guy's got some skill." Roxas answers.

"What's this?" Axel hooked a hand around one ear in a "didn't quite hear you" gesture. "Are you actually complimenting the son of the King you so _deeply_ despise?"

"Shut up." Roxas says in a breathy laugh. He chucks an old shirt at Axel to make a point. "I'm just saying he's not bad. And anyway, is there a reason why you're here?"

Axel bundles up the shirt and shoots it into the hamper. "Well I was going to ask if you wanted to go do a little midnight hunting, but clearly you're not in the mood."

"I would, but it's just, I've got a lot on my plate." Roxas says.

"Well if you're not that hungry just give some food to Demyx. I'm sure he'd be more than happy to take some." Axel jokes.

"You know what I mean." Roxas counters, not amused. "I mean when Xemnas brought me into this family, I thought I'd finally get a chance to see what's it's like to be in a loving family. But now, the only time I ever get his praise is when I make a kill. It feels like I have no one. None!"

Roxas plops himself on the bed next to Axel, sighing in irritation.

Axel's quiet but raises his hands in a gesture that says, 'What about me?' "Look Jesse, I know you were and am still really hurt at your parents' abandonment, but try and look at the bright side." Axel rubs a hand on Roxas' arm. "You're the most strong and independent person I know for a boy your age. Everything he does makes you the man you are today."

"Oh I am on hundred percent sure of that." Roxas snaps back.

He flops backwards so his spin crashes into the soft sheets. He raises his arms above his head and blocks out the light of the chandelier.

"Why can't he ever show me _true_ love?" Roxas mumbles as he peeks though the criss-crossing of his fingers. "All my life I know for a fact that I've done more than please him, and yet, this was the closest thing he's ever given me to praise."

"So, what are like desperate to get his approval?" Axel asks as he leans back to level with Roxas.

"I knew I wasn't going to get it the moment I turned ten and took down my first target with a bow and arrow." Roxas huffs. "All he did was grin and say, 'Good job, son.'"

"Well that sounds like praise to me." Axel says.

"No," Roxas says looking up at the vaulted ceiling, past his chandelier. "the kind that I want, it's different." Axel props on one elbow, a curious look on his face. "I want to see it in his eyes, the pride shining, his hands clapping, applauding me. It's like whenever I go to look for it, he's always, somewhere else. Focused on something more important. More important than his own son. And yeah I get we're all step-related, but still." He fidgets with a stray string on his quilt. "It's just, I wish I knew I was right when I say I've made him proud."

"Hey, you have." Axel brushes a few strands of hair out of Roxas' face. "He just doesn't want to show it because he's the head of this 'merciless' organization, and if he shows love, it'll show weakness. That, and there are nearly thirteen of us here."

"But he's the _leader_. He shouldn't have to worry about who get mad and his image. It's not a popularity contest." Roxas asserts. Then he gently laughs. "I guess I should thank you, and Demyx."

"What for?"

"Well, I guess if it weren't for you guys, I'd be, different." Roxas smiles and looks to Axel. "I don't think I'd have a sense of humor, I probably would _never_ smile." The two chuckle as Roxas rests his hands behind his head. "Thanks."

"No prob." Axel ruffles the blonde's hair.

Suddenly a distant wailing catches their attention. Roxas sits up and Axel moans.

"Xion?" Roxas asks.

Another wailing.

"Xion!"

Roxas shoots out of bed and barrels down the steps all the way to the first floor, and towards the back room where the blood-curdling scream emanates. "Xion!" Roxas calls.

He barges through the door and finds the girls thrashing in her sheets, trapped like a caterpillar in a cocoon, screaming her head off. Her howl, primal and fierce, pierced the nighttime silence. She strained against her bed, her hair whipping her face. Roxas rushes to her beside.

"Xion, Xion!" he shouts over the piercing wails.

She fights him at first, yanking her hands free she scrambles back, slamming into her headboard; banging her skull on the wooden frame. Roxas peels away the choking blankets.

"Xion!"

Her blue eyes snapped open. The room swirled into focus.

She blinked rapidly at the candlelight that radiated from the tall floorlamps, her heart thundering in her chest, manic as a captured bird.

"Xion, wake up. Wake up, Xion." Roxas breathed to the young child.

She gasped, heaving, and swallowed the air in gulps.

Roxas patted her cheek. She seized the rough, warm hand between both of hers, her attention narrowing on the leather archery shooting glove that enveloped one hand and the slim blonde hairs that poked out from beneath the stiff cuff of a familiar leather jacket.

Xion looked into the face of Roxas. He stared at her hard, eyes searching, his blonde brow knitted together. Roxas brushed his hand against her cheek, and she flinched.

"Xion, look at me. You were dreaming. Dreaming."

Xion whimpered as she scooted to sit up. Her empty stomach churned, and she swallowed in an effort to repress a wave of nausea.

Roxas gently grasped her by the shoulders, and Xion collapsed into his arms. She pressed her face into his neck and released one long, choking sob.

"Shhh," he hushed. "Just a bad dream. That's all."

Over his shoulder, Demyx and Axel hovering close by, Demyx's face anxious, etched with delicate lines of worry. Axel drew near and sank onto the bed next to them, placing a cool palm to Xion's brow. That's when she saw Larxene standing in the open doorway. A few members behind her whispering to one another.

Disheveled and groggy, she snarled. "Jeez, I mean are you _trying_ to break the sound barrier?"

Demyx shoved her aside, mumbling, "Not now."

Xion quaked in Roxas' arms while the adrenaline made its final rounds through her system. Fingers twitching, she curled them into the collar of his jacket.

"It's okay." Roxas says as he rocks her, his voice firm, commanding, as though his saying so held the power to make it true. He stroked her back. Xion shut her eyes and tried to slow her breathing, to bring her heart to normal speed and return her mind to reality.

While Roxas rubber her back, Axel smoothed her hair, nimble fingertips tucking flyaway stands behind her ears.

All the attention made Xion feel so small, so helpless. Then again, she was only five years old.

"Shhh, I've got you." Roxas coos. He wipes away a tear with his thumb. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He feels Xion shake her head in his shirt. Roxas continued to rock her and whisper sweet and calming words. He ignored the looks of the other members who were looking for blood spillage, as if they were studying how he was handling this situation.

Roxas feels Xion lean away and wipe her face. Axel grabbed a tissue and wiped her nose.

"Alright, you need to try and go back to sleep." Roxas whispers as he rubs her arms.

Xion tilts her head up and leans towards Roxas' ear. Roxas leans down and turns his head.

"Okay." Roxas whispered.

Roxas hasn't sung a lullaby in so long. At least not out loud. There wasn't that much music in their household, but Roxas knew a few songs. Songs Demyx taught him, but he didn't sing or play them unless it was for a certain occasion, or if it involved Xion. His voice seemed to bring an unknown sense of harmony within the house. He didn't know why. Demyx said it was because something so pure and sweet wasn't seen that often in a home like theirs.

He began to sing softly, a lilting tune.

"_Hush child, _

_the darkness will rise from the deep._

_And, carry you down into sleep._

_Child,_

_The darkness will rise from the deep._

_And, carry you down into sleep._

_Guileless son, I'll shape your belief,_

_And you'll always know that your father's a thief._

_And you won't understand _

_the cause of you grief._

_But you'll always follow the voices beneath."_

Roxas sang with a wispy and ethereal voice, one infused with control, less like an angel's and more like that of a ghost, heartrending and full of mystery.

"_Guileless son, your spirit will hate her,_

_The flower who married my brother the traitor._

_And you will expose, His puppeteer behavior_

_For you are the proof, Of how he betrayed their Loyalty."_

Xion's eyes have fluttered shut and Roxas carefully leans her backward until her head rests on her pillow. Roxas tucks her bangs behind her ear.

"_Hush child, _

_the darkness will rise from the deep._

_And, carry you down into sleep._

_Child,_

_The darkness will rise from the deep._

_And, carry you down into sleep._

_Guileless son, each day you grow older,_

_Each moment I'm watching my vengeance unfold -"_

He was about to finish the lullaby, but suddenly, a rough hand grabs his arm, jerking him off the bed. Roxas looks back and sees Xemnas' eyes, a fire forged in anger burning through them.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?!" he screams.

"What-?"

Xion was wailing again.

"Xemnas!" Axel hissed as he tried to calm the girl.

Xemnas drags Roxas out of the room. Crossing the threshold, he shoves Roxas against the wall of the stairs. A vase of lilies nearly tumbling over.

"_Xemnas_!" Axel yells.

Xion's crying continued as Roxas sees Axel walk out of the room. Nearly everyone was out of their beds, wondering what was going on. But the attention for Xion's nightmare was over. Now all the attention was on Roxas.

Before Roxas could steady himself, Xemnas' hand struck. He slapped Roxas so hard he sees stars, the crack of Xemnas' palm against his jaw split the house.

Everything went silent. Roxas was stunned for a moment before looking to Xemnas. A look of confusion on his face. He can't remember Xemnas being this angry with anything or at anyone ever before in his own life.

"What is the matter with you?!" he hissed the words between his teeth.

Roxas stares him down, anger fixed in his eyes, causing them to burn an unnaturally bright, like two supernovas ready to explode.

Xemnas swallows, as if strangling the impulse to strike Roxas again. "I'm asking you a question."

Roxas sneers. "Xion had a nightmare," his voice was hurt but cold. "I was trying to calm her down."

"You _don't_ sing that song in my house! Do you understand?!" Xemnas screams.

"Xemnas," Demyx interrupts. "It was just a song."

"Don't try to defend him!"

"I'm just stating the facts!" Demyx counters.

"It's just a song, Xemnas." Axel sternly says.

When Xemnas looks to him, Axel stars at him long and hard.

"Jesse," Roxas looked to find Saix off to his left. "go to your room.

Roxas brushed past the staring members. He smoothed a hand through his hair as he mounted the steps.

"Jesse, you stop right there, I'm not done yet!" Xemnas yelled.

"Too bad," Roxas shouted, stopping midway up the banister, "because I am!"

"I said get back down here, Jesse! We're going to talk about this!"

"I was singing to a child whom no one else seems to care about! What is there to talk about, besides you being a horrible excuse of a father?!"

"Jesse!"

"Xemnas stop yelling at him!" Axel yelled.

"This was all about some song?" Roxas heard Xigbar say.

"Jesse!" Xemnas shouted again.

Roxas stopped at the landing and leaned over the railing. "It's just a fucking song Dad! What the hell are you so pissed about?!" he turned and stomped the rest of the way to his room, stopping again outside his door, his anger blazing. "Calm the fuck down!" he roared, and sent his bedroom door slamming shut with a resound bang.

Xemnas huffed and Xion's crying started again. "Will someone please calm that child?!"

Demyx looks to him and scowls. "You really are a horrible father." He then turns and walks into Xion's room, shutting the door softly behind him.

Xemnas growls and turns heading to the kitchen. Saix follows, leaving Axel to tame the crowd. "Alright everyone, show's over. Get to bed, now."

Everyone obeyed, even Larxene – who surprisingly wasn't even smiling by the unfolding of the event – followed Lexaeus through the foyer to the downstairs bedroom. Axel turned back to Xion's bedroom door, the muffled sound of Demyx singing her a different lullaby. Axel could still hear the sobbing of Xion. Looking over into the kitchen, he saw Saix reasoning with Xemnas, who shielded his eyes with his hand. Axel then sighed and headed up the steps.

"It's just a song, sir. Don't make it into a monster." Saix says.

"Saix, who in the world taught him that? I mean, if he manages to decipher its true meaning, then I've lost my weapon to take down the King."

"He hasn't figured it out, and he probably wouldn't have had _any_ suspicion if you hadn't pounced on him." Saix argues.

Xemnas looks to him and shakes his head in aggravation.

"You need to smooth things over with him, dismiss all suspicion." Saix instructs. "If not, he won't be afraid to toss your plan right out the window."

"No, no he won't." Xemnas darkly speaks. "I'll make sure of it."

"But if you do, whatever it is you're thinking, he'll simply rebel and leave you." Saix says. "You just need to apologize. Say you overreacted."

"What do I say?"

"I don't know! He's a teenager, he'll believe anything as long as you seem sincere. Right now, all he wants to know is why you freaked out over some stupid lullaby. Convince him. Do that, and he'll let it go."

"It might take more than that." Xemnas replies.

"What makes you think he'll figure it out?" Saix interrogates.

"I'm not so sure, but if he chooses to, he will. I would, know, after all, I raised him."


	6. Chapter 5

That night, Roxas couldn't get to sleep, too disturbed, too angry, too confused by Xemnas' reaction to the lullaby.

What was it about it that made him so, defensive?

Sitting on the armchair near the fireplace of his room, Roxas rests his chin on his knees. The fire crackling at a warming level, but the heat only reaches Roxas' toes. His hands ice cold, his knuckles white as he grips his ankles, keeping track of how many times the logs pop; showering the hearth with tiny sprites of orange.

Once he was secluded up high in his room, he spent the better half of the night taking out his anger by smashing and throwing things around his room. He had a small collection of dinner plates when he and Axel would eat dinner and ice cream in his room.

They now lay scattered in shards behind him. Hopefully if Xemnas comes up, after his second meltdown about the dishes and eating in his room, he'll slip and fall on the shards.

Roxas raises a hand to his tingling cheek, no doubt still red with Xemnas' hand marred along the skin. He'd rarely ever struck Roxas, and if he did, it was out of teaching a lesson, never discipline. Roxas is still numb in shock at the feeling the harsh slap across his face.

Deep inside his chest, a seed of hatred burrows and takes root. Roxas lets it grow, and flourish. A newfound sensation crawling over him. Xemnas' outburst mixing with all the other abuse he'd received as he joined the organization. Axel, Xion, maybe Demyx the only people in out of the group he's certain he loves.

Xion. No doubt she's calm down now, but still, Roxas feels an urge to go back down and give her reassurance that everything's okay. Better now than to have her ask later.

Releasing the suffocating grip on his ankles, Roxas paces around the room for a minute to revive feeling. He steps around the pile and heads down the stairs.

Everyone's already asleep, Saix and Xemnas probably still up thought. So Roxas tip-toes around Xemnas' study and creeps downstairs. His footsteps muted by his socked feet and the plush runner carpet. Finding Xion's door, Roxas grasps the brass knob and turns.

The hinges creak and the hall light slowly leaks into Xion's darken room. The gold rectangle with Roxas' dark shadow at the center. He sees her sleeping peacefully, her soft, sweet face so innocent. Roxas smiles. He walks to her bedside and leans over her. Placing his lips on her temple, her scent infects his nose. He brushes the back of his hand against her cheek. Her skin was silk soft, compared to his, rough and bloodstained from a shard of the plate.

As he gets up, he feels her shift, but it wasn't until he was at the door that her timid voice squeaked. "Jesse?"

Roxas turns around and finds her eyes slightly open, blinking as she tries to focus with the hall light on. "Hey," Roxas whispers. "Sorry to wake you."

Xion sits up and rubs one of her two big blue eyes. She yawns as Roxas sits on the edge of her bed.

"Are you okay?" Roxas asks.

"Mm-hmm." She answers. "Are you and Xemnas fighting?"

_There it is_.

"No, no. Not at all. He just, didn't like the song I sang to you." Roxas covers. He resisted the urge to tell here the truth, despised by how he was still covering for Xemnas even after his moment.

"Is that all? Why was he so mean?" Xion asks.

_I don't know_, Roxas wanted to answer, but of course, he has been taught he has to old his tongue. He used to scare Demyx and Axel about what he'd say when he was younger. Little kids are like drunkards, always spewing out personal information meant to be secretive. They're too honest.

So Roxas shrugs and says. "Guess he didn't like it that much. But don't worry. I can still sing to you. Just not that one. Okay?"

"Okay." She yawns.

"Alright, it's late. Get some sleep. It's been an eventful night." Roxas says as he tucks her in. before he could tuck the sheets around her, mimicking a caterpillar just the way she liked, Xin sat up and hugs Roxas. Wrapping her arms around his neck.

Roxas returns her hug after a moment's hesitation. But is left surprised as Xion kisses his cheek. Right on the hand mark. Then she burrows into the sheets, slightly giggling. Roxas ruffles her hair with a chuckle and quietly walks out the room. Gently shutting the door behind him, Roxas remained there for a moment, his back pressed to the wood.

He blinks, left dazed as Xion's kiss seemed to suddenly extinguish the fire of his anger. His thoughts calmer, mind clearer. The feeling stayed with him as he mounted the stairs to his room. As he reaches the doorway, he comes to find Demyx sweeping up the glass shards.

The intrusion unrightfully reigniting his anger. "What are doing in here?!" he shouts.

Demyx jumps and takes a couple steps back. Roxas advances forward, hands in fists. Demyx holds up the broom one would when trying to defend against a rabid animal. "I, I was just cleaning up. Nearly split my toe on the way in here."

"Just leave it! Leave it alone!" Roxas yells. Stomping over the pieces and shards, not caring if they embed in his shoes.

"Roxas," Demyx says. "you're bleeding."

Roxas silent as he plops back down into the chair. But instead of leaving the room, Demyx sighs, and goes to the bathroom. He comes back with a damp cloth and gently cleans the blood from a broken plate off his hands.

_Why is he doing this_?_ Why am I letting him_?

"Thanks." He says. Demyx smiles in return.

They spend the next hour helping each other clean the room. When all the garbage has been dropped into bags, Demyx sits on the floor next to Roxas' feet as he sits in the chair and stares at the fire.

"Are you okay?" Demyx finally asks.

Roxas closes his eyes and he sighs. "I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine to me."

"I'm _fine_, Demyx. Pissed but fine." he rephrases.

"You have every right to be." Demyx says.

Roxas looks to him with shock, but relief. It made him feel good to know he had an ally.

"I'm serious." Demyx goes on. "I mean, I don't get why he was so bent out of shape about. Where did you learn that anyway?"

"I'm surprised I even remembered anything at all." Roxas says. "I mean, I remember I was taught that when I was young. I could only remember the tune, not the lyrics. Then as I got older, I started to hum it more around the house, the lyrics seemed to come back to me."

"Wow. You still remember some of the things I taught you?" Demyx asks with a shy smile.

Roxas chuckles. "Yeah, I do. It's all I have to happiness. I was just telling Axel how I should thank you two. If it weren't for you guys, I probably would've been worse."

Demyx laughs. "Aw thank you. Happy to help." The antique clock on Roxas' wall chimes midnight. Demyx smacks his thighs. "Oh, welp, I've got to get to bed. This beauty doesn't happen naturally."

"Well then you're not trying hard enough. Maybe you should sleep more often. Solve both our problems." Roxas teases.

"Hey! That's actually not a bad idea." Demyx says. Roxas laughs, a pure and real laugh that only Demyx and Axe can draw out of him. "Night Jesse."

"Night Demy."

The next morning, Roxas hasn't left his room until noon, when he knew everyone else has let the house. His own attempt to show the rest of the organization members that he's not in the mood to converse with any of them. Much to his suspicion, since Axel and Demyx already know to leave him alone, the other members couldn't give a horse's ass if something was bothering Roxas. But in a way, everyone wins. They don't talk to him, and he doesn't have to talk to them.

He didn't go to meet Sora that morning, so he had to go to the marketplace in case Sora wanted to chew him out for not meeting them. It was mid afternoon when Roxas pulled on his cloak and decided to leave his house. Eager to escape from the small confines of his room, he's surprised to find himself looking forward to spending the day with Sora.

At the beginning, it felt like pulling teeth out to get Roxas to help him in training. They've now somehow worked their way into a tentative truce, and it feels nice to walk next to him down the pressed dirt road leading into town.

Strolling through the puddle gouged streets, he kept his hood pulled over his head and blocking his eyes. He keeps it buttoned down to his bellybutton, leaving exposed the sheath of his knife to let anyone know who's dumb enough to mess with him, he's armed. He keeps his eyes open for the symbol of the Royal Emblem on a piece of clothing. This was the only time he wished Sora had come with the guards so it'd be easier to spot, and who knows if he's even wearing the royal emblem. He said he wanted to blend in with the crowd.

The dirt road gives way to the mud-caked cobblestones of Sough Edge. The fetid, rotting smell of trash heaps lies ripe on the afternoon at, and the few people who are outside of their miserable dwellings scuttle along the streets with their eyes on their feet.

Roxas slides his knife free and holds it beneath his cloak as he enters the main stretch of South Edge. Not that he expects danger in board daylight, especially with the obvious presence of guards in the streets, but he's not going to risk it. His eyes constantly scrape over his surroundings, looking for threats.

Suddenly, someone snaps their fingers in front of his face. "Hey!" Sora yells. Roxas jerks to attention. "Yeah, hello," Sora says, circling a hand around in front of Roxas' face, as though washing sludge from a window.

"Oh, hey Sora." Roxas says.

"Don't 'Hey Sora' me!" he says. "Where were you this morning?!"

Roxas ruffles his hair, "Uh, things just got in the way."

"What things?" Sora asks, his expression softening.

"Family stuff." Roxas says turning away, but he guides Sora in his direction.

"So, what happened? You got grounded?" Sora asks as he follows him.

"I had a fight with my family." Roxas answers. "My dad more precisely."

"About what?"

"Okay. Enough."

"Too much?" Sora asks.

"Too much."

The two stay silent as Sora follows Roxas through the woods to their spot for training. They trek through the dirt to the clearing, birds chirping and squirrels chasing one another around and up trunks. The river flows softly and the flash of scales catches Roxas' attention. He makes a mental note to set a net later.

As they break through some foliage, Sora notices a practice dummy lying against the trunk of an oak. It's about the size of a full grown man. What disturbs Sora the most, is that it's the same height as his father. While Roxas sets up the swords, Sora goes over and inspects the dummy. He tries lifting him, and weighs nearly a hundred pounds. He can't imagine getting slammed with this thing, and he had a bad feeling he was going to otherwise why else would Roxas drag it here.

"Do you train with this thing?" Sora asks. He looks over to Roxas sharpening his sword with a rock.

Roxas looks up to him. "Yeah for combat. We call him Bob." Roxas the pulls out what looks like a large walking stick.

"What's that? A staff?" Sora teases.

"Haha, it's called a Switch." Roxas then presses on the thinner end of the stick and small blade pops out.

The Switch is an invention made by one of Roxas' brothers. It looks like a solid wooden walking staff, but one end is weighted enough to crush a man's skull, and the other conceals a spring-loaded double edged blade. It takes hours of work before Sora can balance the heavier end, swing it like a mallet, and knock Bob flying. Even so, he's still off balance enough that if he has to deal with two foes at once, he'll find himself skewered at the end of a sword before he can regain footing, and he's yet to manage springing the blade after the initial hit without getting knocked to the ground.

While Bob is his father's height, he weighs in at an even once hundred and seventy pounds. He's got both of the boys by forty pounds and five inches.

"My father always said if I could take out the dummy, I could handle any man who tried to give me trouble." Roxas says.

"Was he talking about the thugs in the street?" Sora asks.

Roxas is silent for a moment, "Yeah." The real reason was so that he could take out the king. Xemnas even added an extra twenty pounds so whenever Roxas does face the king, it'll seem so much easier. Roxas can't count on his fingers the number of scars and bruises he got from training with Bob alone. Then when it got to the teammates, who could think and fight for themselves, it only added more. Roxas half-expected to see himself in stitches like an old rag doll he' been broken and beaten so many times.

Tugging his burette lower, to cover his blond hair, he watches Sora try to master the Switch.

Roxas had strung a heavy wire between two trees and hooked Bob to it. The dummy slides, swings, and moves with Sora's own momentum, and while it isn't the same as fighting something with intelligence, he keeps Sora on his toes. Sora can run him through with his knife, yank the blade free, duck, and spin around to bury his weapon into the dummy's back while he slides toward him. The Switch is another story. He slams the weighted end of it into Bob, but can't spin the blade side around before his sparring partner swings back and sends him sprawling.

After his fourth disastrous attempt, he lets fly with the most creative swear word Roxas ever heard any member of the royal family sat, and tosses the Switch onto the grass beside him.

"I can't master it." Sora says. "Can't swing it around in time to deliver the crucial blow that could mean the difference between life and death."

He lays back on the grass, squinting against the glare of the afternoon sun, and suddenly feels like crying like he's a five-year-old.

Training with Leon, he'd always felt invincible since the techniques were so easy. Now with Jesse, he feels like a freshly shorn land, stripped bare of a shield he never thought he'd lose. He feels the sunlight block out and sees Jesse standing over him. A small smile on his mouth.

"I had the same thing." he says.

"What?"

"It's not easy, but if you can master a bow, then what's the difference with this one?" Roxas interrogates.

"It's like having to weapons at once." Sora says.

"Exactly. But instead of looking at it like a bad thing, use it to your advantage. Now come on!"

Sora sighs and pushes himself to his feet. Grasp the Switch. Close his yes, takes a deep breath that smells of grass, sun-warmed dirt, and the fresh buds slowly unfurling in an orchard.

He listens intently to Jesse, opening his eyes as Jesse moves to stand next to the dummy. Sora widens his stance, and crouches.

"Drop your shoulders a bit. You'll need the room to move." Roxas encloses his hands around Sora's as his hands start to slide together. "No, you don't. Nice wide grip. Keep it loose. Gives you balance control."

Sora drops his shoulders, and widens his grip.

"Alright, now, you've got a weapon on either end. You'll only have seconds to decide which one to use." Roxas lets go of Sora's hands, and places callused palms on his shoulders. "Big man, sprinting towards you."

"Weapon?"

"Doesn't matter, Sora. He's twice your size and his speed will bring him in range within seconds. Which end do you use?" Roxas' fingers curl around Sora's shoulders as if willing him to know the answers.

"Blade. No time to swing the weighted end." Sora slides the blade free and crouches.

"Very good." Roxas releases Sora's shoulders and walk around to stand near Bob. "Now, if you must engage an opponent who is bigger, stronger, and faster, what do you do?"

"Take him down. Make it so he can't get up and come after me."

"Yes. Now you'll get one chance to surprise him. Make full use of that advantage. Where do you make the first cut?" Jesse's eyes are a sparkling blue, like the sky shimmering with dew, and the fierce determination in them fills Sora with the same.

_I can do this_.

"Let him come in, then spin and slash the inner thigh, as I turn. Cut open the artery." Sora draws in a deep breath, imagines a man barreling towards him, lets him come almost too close for comfort, and then sin and slashes, planning his left foot to keep his balance for the next move.

"Good! He's bleeding, but the pain hasn't hit yet, and he doesn't know how badly he's hurt. He'll try to come after you. How do you stop him?" Jesse encourages.

"Cut the Achilles tendon as he passes me, then get out of range." Sora spins and slashes again, the Switch beginning to feel like an extension of his arm as he thrusts, turn, and slices in tune with Jesse's voice.

Roxas is soon clapping, pride written on his face. "You did it. I knew you could."

Sora returns his smile without hesitation. After another hour of mastering the Switch, Roxas goes on to teaching Sora how to fish at the creek. He tells Sora about how he has to angle the bow, or spear since the water distorts the fish's image. And since they can swim fast, you need to make every shot count.

While Roxas cleans off the arrows, Sora ties them together and stuffs them into his burlap sack. As he watches Roxas, he bites his lip in hesitating on whether to ask him. The worst that he could do is just ignore him.

"So, what's your favorite color?" Sora asks.

Roxas stops what he's doing and looks to him in confusion. "What's happening right now?"

Sora shrugs. "Just trying to make conversation."

Roxas sighs. "Blue. Like the sky. You?"

"Pink."

Roxas looks to him, giving Sora a face that begs him to be kidding. Sora merely shakes his head.

"I'm serious. It makes me happy." Sora encourages. "It's like a happy color."

"I guess."

"Favorite tree?"

Roxas chuckles. "Weeping Willow. I like the way when, you walk under it, and the vines make like a curtain. It just gives you that sense of security." Roxas says.

"I know right? I remember I used to love crawling into the trunk whenever it was hollow because it always felt like a cool safe spot." Sora says.

They keep this up until they make it into a game, called the Favorite's Game. Each of them says a different thing and the other says what's their favorite and why. By the time Sora's skinned and wrapped the rest of the fish, he could name Jesse's favorite color, tree, sweet, weapon, season, book, animal, and meal for dinner. He also managed to find out Jesse can play and read music.

They now sit along the creek, perched on logs and rocks, savoring a gathering of strawberries Roxas found.

As Roxas leans back on his hands, letting his head hang back, soaking up the sunlight, Sora takes the unprecedented opportunity to study him. He had very simple and smooth features. His hat always bothered Sora because he wanted to see his hair. Unless he doesn't have any hair. And those little strands sticking out were simply the remnants. Whatever the case, it seemed personal enough that he didn't feel comfortable enough showing it, and since Sora's already gotten him to open up as much as he could, he'd rather not push his luck.

"So what's your family like, Jesse?" Sora asks.

Roxas' eye snap open and he looks to him. Sora doesn't retract his question, instead he only raises his eyebrows waiting for him to answer. Roxas sighs.

"Uh, I'd say we're average. I mean I have 12 other siblings and -"

"Whoa! Twelve?!" Sora interrupts.

"Yeah."

"Whoa! How do you managed?!"

"We have a big house."

"Not like that, I mean how to you maintain sanity? How many brothers and sisters?" Sora asks, scooching closer to Roxas.

"Uh, two sisters, and the rest are men. They're all older than me, except for my youngest sister, she's five." Roxas explains.

"Wow, must be a pain, but at least you all have each other." Sora nudges

Roxas scoffs. "Please, those morons never help me. I don't even think they care."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because we're all step related." Roxas says.

Sora's suddenly left speechless. He stares at Roxas in shock. "Step-related?"

"Yep." Roxas shifts to stretch out his legs, crossed at the ankle.

"So, you're not related at all?"

"That's what _step_ usually means." Roxas sasses. He smirks when Sora gives him a dirty look.

"So, are you, like the only one related?" Sora slowly eases his way in. He's opened the door, he doesn't want it to shut. He finally found himself slowly entering that kingdom of isolation of Roxas', and he had to act quickly but slyly before that iron-guard gate snapped into place.

"Nope. I'm adopted too."

Sora's eye widen. "Really?"

"Yeah. But don't get me wrong, I mean. Sometimes it feels like everyone for themselves, but I've managed to find a couple people I've managed to get close to. And I'll admit, we're not lovey-dovey like your family probably, but there's still that mutual respect that we have for each other."

"Oh, so what's your mom like?"

Roxas was gazing out over the water, and it takes a second before the question registers. "Hmm? Oh, I never had a mother. My step-dad lives alone."

"Well, what were your parents like. I mean you obviously came from somewhere." Sora by now has brought himself right next to Roxas, crossing his legs and resting his head on his hands.

Roxas sighs. "I wouldn't know. They left me when I was young."

"What?" Sora breathes.

A soft breeze braises their faces, stirring Sora's spikes. Roxas stretches and tucks his knees to his chest. "Yeah, I guess you could say I was born a stray."

Sora's quiet. Shocked at how casual Jesse talks about this stuff. He lowers his gaze.

Abandoned at a young age. Unwanted. Orphaned.

"Well, did they have a good reason? Like could they not take care of you?" Sora asks, wanting to put some hope into he situation, even though Jesse knows this better than him.

Suddenly, Jesse laughs coldly. His voice dropped to nearly a whisper. "I remember I asked my step-dad the same thing."

"I, I'm sorry. We don't have to talk about it -"

"Nah, it's fine." Roxas waves off.

He hugs his knees with his elbows and keeps his gaze ahead. Sora can practically see the scene replaying in the crystalline blue eyes of his. Then it seems that the forest grows eerily quiet. Soon the flowing of the river seemed too loud in Sora's ears.

"My really family," he swallows thickly. "my dad says they didn't want me." He reaches a hand down and begins picking at a trio of blades of grass growing between a thin fissure in the rock. The words are hard to say. The memory they evoke are worse. "they were a regular, manageable middle class family. They wouldn't hold me or, play with me or anything." He folds his lips in. "And so, they took me to the town. Where they left me. On the coldest, rainiest day ever."

Sora's eyes glisten with water, but he quickly blinks them away. Knowing Jesse would be angry for him showing pity.

"So, soon enough my dad found me digging through the garbage looking for food, and he took me into his home. And the rest is history." He concludes.

Sora's mouth is agape and all he can do is stare at Jesse in numb shock. He looks out ahead to avoid getting caught with watery eyes. "I'm so sorry." He mumbles.

He hears Jesse chuckle. "Eh the past is in the past."

"Do you ever wish to meet them?"

"I did when I was younger, but now? I just want to meet them so I can punch them. Scream at them for abandoning me." He fists his hands, the knuckles soon turning white. "And then, I'd tell them that they will never be my parents."

Sora looks to him.

"I thought they wouldn't live without me, but they did. And that sucks." He gives a cold smile. "They suck." He looks to Sora. Seeing his face, he quickly changes the subject. "Favorite instrument?"

Sora smiles. "Piano."

"You ever play?" Jesse asks.

"No, not really." Sora vaguely answered. His sudden silence perked Roxas' interest, but knew when to not cross a line unless invited.

"What?"

Sora takes a deep breath and exhales. "Okay, now I guess it's my turn." Roxas stays silent. "When I was about an infant, I actually had a brother. I know we were young, but I instantly felt this, connection. Like we already knew everything there was to know about one another."

He pauses and folds his lips in. He shuts his eyes and Roxas could sense an emanate sob desperately wanting to claw its way out of Sora's throat.

"My mother was an amazing piano player, and sometimes she would play the piano to help us get to sleep. My brother absolutely loved it, and she says he'd always want to sit on her lap and pound at the keys. Dad always said he seemed like the musical type." Sora chuckles, and the first tear escapes him.

Normally Roxas would think pity of those who cry, but for some reason, it was different for Sora. Even he ah heard of the story of the kidnapped prince. To this day they declare him dead. Never to be found. Sora had suffered a similar feeling of loss, and to that, that they both still managed to move on, he finds respect.

"Sorry," Sora says wiping his eyes with his thumb and pointer finger.

"Don't apologize." Roxas whispers.

Sora chuckles. "I sometimes find myself wondering what we'd be doing if he were here today. Would he like to ride with me into the woods? Would he like to sword practice with me? And I can easily picture him at the piano of out birthday party. Playing an incredible piece of music in front of all of our guests. They all stare in awe and even begin to dance along."

"Do you still think he's alive?" Roxas asks.

Sora sniffs "Yeah, I do. I mean I know it seems like everyone else has given up, but I can still see a faint spark of hope still inside all of them. And I see it get stronger when his birthday comes up. And then it diminishes to its normal state until next year."

Sora returns his gaze out back to the river. Then a moment later he feels Jesse's hand on his shoulder. Sora jerks his head in his direction, but Jesse keeps his gaze ahead. "I hope you find him. I really do."

When he looks to Sora, Sora's left breathless by the genuine hope and generosity in his eyes. Sora can't help but smile. He's weaning to reach out and hug him, but he didn't' want to spoil the moment they were having. So he keeps smiling and turns his head away.

"Thanks."

They clean up their things and after Roxas guides Sora to the trail leading to the town, they part their ways. Roxas lugs the burlap sack over his shoulder and looks back to see Sora pull the hood of his cloak up over his head. He smiles, and small bud of warmth burrowing in his chest and slowly spreading its way to his arms and legs. He doesn't stop it. He doesn't want to. It feels so good.

As Sora enters the castle, he hands his cloak off to the maid and she takes it to her room. Another servant comes up, "Your majesty, your parents want you dressed and in the throne room."

"Did they say why?"

"Only that you have guests arriving." The man says.

Instead of even bothering to stop into his room, Sora sprints down the corridor to the throne room. He bursts through the door and finds his parents in their formal clothing. His father in his robes in the color of the family crest, wearing the jeweled crown. His mother in her navy blue dress, heavy and flowing, like the inaugural gown of a queen, spilled from either sides of her covered feet while the embellished train fell in gentle folds along the stairs. The pleats and endless ripples in the lavish garment gave the illusion of softness.

While Sora felt completely out of place, with his old leather jacket and possibly sweat-stained tunic and dirt-covered boots, his eyes ignored the warning and disappointed looks of his parents. His eyes looked to the far end of the enormous hall to the entrance. Sora didn't even bother to go to his seat when he saw the blue-green eyes curtained behind his silver spiky hair. He had cut it short the last time Sora had seen him.

Now it looked the way it did when they were kids playing around in his family's garden with their wooden swords. The smell of the buds giving the fresh spring hair its scent of hope and new beginnings. Still the muscular built could be seen through his tunic and cloak as he was guided by the guards to the front of the thrones.

Sora runs up and stops just within reaching distance, proudly aware of his dirt clothing and rather unappealing appearance.

"Still a mud bug like you used to be huh, Sora?" he says.

Mud bug, that was the nickname he'd probably never let go. When Sora was younger, whenever it rained, Sora always wanted to play in the puddles and mud. He even remembered he made a small fort out of mud and when it dried, he would hide out there whenever he got in trouble with his parents. It was like a secret spot he had to himself, until he started coming to visit.

Sora smiles. "It's good to see you too, Riku."


End file.
